


Utopia

by SPowell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Some Humor, communal living, mention of racism and religious bigotry, mention of terminal illness, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an errand in the states for his father, Arthur, a lonely, introverted, workaholic, prat finds himself stranded in Pennsylvania and is rescued by Merlin and Gwen, who are members of a nearby commune called Avalon.</p><p>Disclaimer: I make no profit from this endeavor. The characters belong to BBC and Shine, along with legend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Utopia

**Author's Note:**

> Omg, I thought I'd never finish this! I started it ages ago and have written several things in the meantime. I told myself I wouldn't write another thing until I finished it, so here it is! I hope you enjoy.

Utopia

 

 

“Yes, Father, I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll be there, don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss such an important meeting.” Arthur Pendragon gripped his cell phone tightly, inwardly cursing. He’d meant to set his GPS, but then his father had called, and he just wouldn’t _shut up_!

“Yes, Father, I bought six. I’m sure she will. Right.”  Arthur shifted in the seat of the luxury rental car and clenched his hand on the wheel. _Where in the hell was he?_

“Alright, I will, yes, I will. That’s my phone beeping…needs charging.” He felt like a mouse in a maze, always running and never finding the end of it. Not only in this godforsaken part of rural Pennsylvania, but in his life in general. And he was so damned tired all the time. “Right, Father. Yes. Goodbye.” Arthur disconnected and one-handedly hooked his cell to the charger. When was the last time he had a vacation? A day to himself? He sighed and pushed his foot to the gas, thinking that civilization had to be just past these seemingly endless cornfields.

Less than ten minutes later, a strange sound followed by loss of speed had Arthur cursing and checking the speedometer, which fluctuated dramatically.  He pumped the gas pedal, but the car continued to slow until it rolled to a stop, smoke billowing from the hood.

Arthur unbuckled himself and got out, circling round the candy-red Jaguar, hands waving  smoke out of his face, and kicked the front tire so hard, he split the Italian leather of his shoe.

“Shit!” he yelled, his face turning red with the effort. A flock of birds took flight, but otherwise, everything in the hot, dry distance remained still. Sweat poured down Arthur’s face, slowly making its way inside his collar. Stuck in the middle of Nowhere, U.S.A., Arthur looked around him. Nothing for miles but field after field of corn. Arthur hated corn. Fucking corn. If he never saw an ear of fucking piss-ant corn again, it would be too soon. He kicked the tire again, painfully stubbing his toe, and hopped around for a good half a minute.

With a sigh, he shrugged out of his expensive suit jacket, threw it into the backseat, locked the car, and started walking. There had to be a fucking gas station coming up…he hadn’t seen one in miles. Where had he made a wrong turn? Why had he answered the phone when his father called, anyway? He knew why. He’d never in his life dared to ignore a phone call from Uther Pendragon.

The blazing sun had dipped low in the sky before he spotted what he thought could possibly be the beginnings of civilization, although it was still rather far off and looked to be down a different road. Shielding his eyes with his hand (having thrown his Ray Bans at a persistent crow several miles back that evidently thought his blond hair was something to eat (probably CORN), he squinted. There were definitely some buildings in the far distance. He looked down at his feet. The hot pavement had worn holes in his shoes. His shirt was sweat- stained, and he had the beginnings of a bad sunburn on his forehead and nose. He’d unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves hours ago, and now he pulled the whole shirt off, wrapping it around his head like a turban and securing it by tying the sleeves. Exhausted yet determined, he continued down the road.

“Damn it,” he muttered, stopping again just over a mile farther and hopping around a bit while pulling off his right shoe and shaking out the gravel that had collected there. In the meantime, his silk sock ripped on the concrete. “Christ, I hate America!” he swore, certain that something like this couldn’t possibly happen back in England, and slipped what was left of his shoe back on, wincing as it scraped a budding blister on the back of his heel.

As Arthur walked (limped), losing track of time from one painful step to the next, he thought of his posh life back in London…the large flat with the huge window that covered an entire wall…the expresso maker in the kitchen…the showerhead with ten settings in his enormous shower stall that even had a seat built in where he’d shagged more than one companion while steamy water hit the tiles and Mozart played on the high-priced stereo system…

Arthur’s legs were becoming numb. Walking wasn’t such a hardship now, as he couldn’t feel anything below his waist. His face stung, and his throat was dry and sore. He thought about the Perrier water in his double-door, stainless steel refrigerator and the glasses he kept chilled and waiting. That led to thoughts of the French take-out he liked to order after a long day of work on Fridays. His stomach growled as he mentally ran through the menu. He was so lost in his thoughts, he stumbled off the road and tripped over a shredded piece of tire, landing with an _oomf_ in the ditch.

A bit dazed and scraped up, Arthur lay on his back looking up at the blue sky. Why in the _hell_ couldn’t his father have sent someone else on this godforsaken trip to godforsaken Pennsylvania to find godforsaken artwork by some obscure Amish guy in a godforsaken Amish community?

Okay, the Amish probably weren’t godforsaken. They’d seemed quite godly, actually, when he’d met them. Arthur had rather liked them and their simple ways…at least up until the time he became tired from traveling and really fancied a good soak in the hotel Jaccuzi with a plate of brie and a good bottle of Chianti. Then he’d just found the Amish annoying. He’d seen enough, anyway.  He’d purchased the art for Uther’s new wife, which now sat locked up in the trunk of the dead Jag along with Arthur’s luggage. He only hoped no one would steal them. Sluggishly, he checked his pants pocket for the keys, then, alarmed to find they weren’t there, he checked a little more frantically in the other. He specifically remembered locking up the Jag, so _where were the fucking keys?_

Tired and defeated, Arthur moaned, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back on the hard concrete of the shallow ditch, trying valiantly not to notice the wet substance that slowly soaked into the back of his Armani pants, and trying even harder not to breathe in the scent of near-by road kill through his nose. He briefly entertained a fantasy of drying out in the sun and becoming nothing more than a piece of jerky on the side of the road, and the subsequent headlines in the London papers. _Son of Uther Pendragon, computer software entrepreneur, found dry roasted in a ditch in rural Pennsylvania. See story on page 31._

Arthur didn’t know how long he’d lain there, broiling in the dying rays of the sun, unable to muster the energy to get to his feet, his thoughts becoming more and more muddled and confused, before he became vaguely aware of a clanking sound. Opening his eyes, he struggled to sit up just as an old, blue pickup truck stuttered to a halt beside him. Colorful bumper stickers covered the driver’s door, one of them a rainbow. Arthur was too out of it to look further and allowed his head to fall back on the pavement. Warily, he watched the truck with heavy eyes.

“Need some help?” the woman driving the old wreck asked. She was pretty, with curly hair pulled into a long braid, and smooth, nut-brown skin. Someone in the passenger seat got out and shut the door. After a moment, the outline of a face with ears that stuck comically out on each side blocked the sun from Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur groaned, his mouth dry and his head hurting. At least he’d stopped sweating, he mused, but then had the presence of mind to wonder if that was really such a good thing. The figure crouched beside him, and Arthur was able to make out the face a little better without the curséd August sun behind it. It was a man of about his age, gangly and handsome in a way that Arthur didn’t have the brainpower to pinpoint in his present condition. Two wide, very blue eyes peered at Arthur from beneath coal-black lashes, and pale, high, chiseled cheekbones seemed to flush in the shadows, but Arthur could have imagined that. One thing he knew for certain: the man had a mouth that was so pretty, it could’ve belonged to a girl.

“Did someone beat you up and toss you in the ditch?” the man asked Arthur. He had a bit of an accent.

“My…car broke down. I’ve been walking.” Arthur rasped.

The man’s eyebrow rose. “The fancy, red car? That had to be ten miles back!”

Arthur tried to nod, but it hurt his head. “It’s a rental. A shite one.”

“Well, come on, then.” The man grasped Arthur’s hand and helped to pull him up. Bolstering Arthur with his shoulder, he helped him around the truck and into the passenger seat before hoisting himself up into the bed. The girl put the truck into drive and continued rattling down the road, the sound echoing painfully throughout Arthur’s head as darkness crept in around his vision.

 _Fuck_ , was the last word Arthur remembered thinking before passing out, losing track of time and everything else.

A darkened room and a glass of water pressed to his lips, and what felt like ice packs tucked under his arms, were the next things Arthur became aware of.

Then there were voices. Several.

And  silence. Peace. Heavenly soft sheets. Sleep.

He awoke. After being so hot, Arthur felt very cold. He shivered and clutched at whoever was nearest, not recognizing anyone except the man with the extraordinary face, and he swam in and out of Arthur’s vision in a way that made Arthur’s head swim so that he squeezed his eyes shut and fought not to throw up.

Fretfully, Arthur turned away and tried to sleep.

Sometime later, the man cradled Arthur’s head in his hand, pressing a glass to his lips again.

“Come on, drink it up now,” the now-familiar voice told him, and Arthur obediently opened his mouth and took some in. “Where am I?” he asked hoarsely after a few great gulps.

“We’ve brought you back to our community,” the voice said. “There isn’t a hospital for miles. I don’t know what you were doing way out here.” Arthur blinked and, as his eyes adjusted to the light (or lack thereof), he focused on the man who’d picked him up off the side of the road.

“I’m Merlin,” his rescuer told him. “What’s your name?”

“Arthur.” Arthur laid his head back on the pillow. “Is this your house?” he asked, moving his head a little and looking around.

“Yes, I live in this building with a few others. This is what we call an ‘intentional community.’ You might think of it as a commune _._ It’s called Avalon. We live and work together in mutual harmony here.”

“A commune?” Arthur croaked out, his brow wrinkling. “You mean like, for _hippies_?”

Merlin laughed, bringing a frown to Arthur’s face. His head felt like a balloon that had been set free, and he didn’t appreciate being laughed at. As Merlin continued to smile down at him, Arthur’s anger transformed into thoughts of what a nice smile Merlin had, and from there his mind just wandered willy-nilly.

“I guess Gwen’s a bit like a hippie…she’s the one who was driving when we picked you up.”

Arthur remembered the pretty girl with the long braid. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Just a friend,” Merlin replied easily.

As Arthur’s mind slowly cleared, he began to realize he was lying in a stranger’s house making inane conversation when he was supposed to be in his hotel in Lancaster. He struggled to sit upright. “I, er, really appreciate your help, but…could I get a lift to my hotel?” Blackness crawled into Arthur’s vision, and he swayed sideways, blindingly reaching out for something to grab onto. Gentle hands grasped his, helping him to lie back down, and for a moment, the warm palms pressed flat on his chest, just over Arthur’s rapidly beating heart. He had the bizarre sensation of warmth spreading over him like a tight blanket, and he immediately began to feel better.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up for a while. I think you’ve had a bit of heat exhaustion, and maybe a touch of the flu, too,” Merlin admonished.  “How about some more water?”   

Arthur nodded, and Merlin’s cool hand curled beneath Arthur’s neck again, helping him to drink.

“Rest for a while.”

“How long have I been here?” Arthur asked.

“A couple of days.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God!”

Merlin patted his hand. “It’s late, and dinner’s over, but I’ve saved some for you when you feel like eating.” He started to stand, but Arthur grabbed his wrist, suddenly not wanting the man to go. Merlin paused, settling back down on the mattress and looking at Arthur expectantly.

“Er...” Embarrassed, Arthur cast about in his addled brain for something to say. “Your accent—where’re you from?”

“Ireland, originally,” Merlin grinned, causing Arthur’s already too-rapid heartbeat to speed up even more.  Merlin rose. “Get some rest.”

When Merlin had left, Arthur shifted on the narrow bed. The sheets were cool beneath him, and he suddenly realized that he no longer wore his dirty, sweaty clothing, but a clean T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. His body felt clean. He couldn’t believe he’d been there two days. What must his father be thinking?

Arthur didn’t want to think about his father, Sophia, or anything else. He just wanted to forget it all and to sleep. With a contented sigh, he rolled over and closed his eyes, which hurt in their sockets every time he moved them. He was so damned tired.

However, dreamless slumber eluded him. Instead, disturbing nightmares taunted Arthur. He restlessly tossed and turned in the bed, his skin burning hot. Arthur saw his father’s face before him, heard his voice demanding, _“What are you doing lying down, Arthur? Sleeping late again?”_ Arthur moaned, struggling to rise from the bed, saying “Yes, sir,” over and over again, his lip trembling with frustration when he couldn’t make his body do what he wanted it to.

“Shh, there, now. I’m here. Be still.” Comforting hands gently pressed Arthur back into the mattress, soothing him, filling him with a peaceful calm. His father faded away into darkness, and Arthur slept.

~~~O~~~O~~~

Merlin took one last look at Arthur before leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He was surprised to find Hunith waiting for him in the great room.

“Mum! What are you still doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. How is he?”

“Better. His fever flared up, and he was delirious. I think he’s turned the corner now and will be all right.”

“I saw you lay your hands on him. Has the healing magic come back?”

Merlin nodded. “I think so.”

“Oh, Merlin. That’s wonderful! It’s the first time you’ve tried since…”

“Mum!” Merlin stopped her. “Please.” His eyes entreated her to drop it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Merlin.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Merlin grabbed a blanket and pillow and stretched out on the floor, his back to his mother. After a minute, she got up with a sigh and went into her room.

~~~OO~~~

Arthur blinked his eyes open, and when he realized the terrible lethargy of the night before had left him, he tentatively pushed himself up in the bed and looked around.

The room wasn’t spinning; there was no darkness creeping into his line of vision.  With a smile, Arthur threw the covers back and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Standing, he stretched languorously, looking around for a mirror. He didn’t see one. His T-shirt and boxers were soaked in sweat from his fever breaking, and Arthur pealed them off. A door behind him opened, and he swung around to find the girl that drove the truck standing on the threshold, her mouth dropping open at the sight of his nudity. Quickly, she turned her head at the same time as Arthur made a mad dash for the bed and grabbed a pillow to cover his private bits.

“I-I’m sorry,” the girl, _Gwen_ , _Merlin had called her_ , stammered. “I shouldn’t have barged in like that. I expected you to be in bed. I-I assume you’re feeling better, then?” Gwen’s eyes remained glued to a crack in the wall. “If you’d like to have breakfast with us, come to the main room. We left you some clean clothes…” she motioned toward a chair in the corner before backing clumsily out and shutting the door quietly.

Arthur dropped the pillow and made for the clothes. A glance at the door showed him there were no locks, but he imagined people usually knocked before entering. 

The ‘clothes’ proved to be a longish white tunic made of soft material and some brown pants with a drawstring that pulled a bit snuggly across his bum. He hoped they didn’t rip when he bent over, as they hadn’t provided him with a change of underwear. It embarrassed him to think of walking into his posh hotel dressed like this, but it couldn’t be helped. And really, he felt obligated to Merlin and Gwen for coming to his rescue on the side of the road. The thought of how they’d found him lying in a ditch next to road kill, possibly dying of heat exhaustion, made him shudder. Thank God his father hadn’t been present to see him so weak and vulnerable.

There was a knock at the door, and Merlin poked his head in. Arthur felt an odd rush of affection at the sight of him, probably understandable considering Merlin had taken care of him while was sick. Still, it made him a little uncomfortable; Arthur was unaccustomed to feelings of affection.

“Ah, I see you’ve found the clothes. I thought Gwen said something about it, but she was stammering and blushing so much, I wasn’t sure.” Merlin’s grin widened, and Arthur felt an answering smile pulling at the edges of his own lips.

“Yes, thank you very much. These will do quite…nicely.” Arthur cleared his throat, resisting the urge to scratch all over. Not because the clothes were necessarily uncomfortable, but because they didn’t belong to him. Arthur couldn’t think of a time when he had ever worn someone else’s clothes. “I wonder if you or Gwen might drive me back to my rental car after I call for a tow truck?”

Merlin’s face fell, his bow lips pressing together. Arthur jerked his eyes away from them to find Merlin avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, about that,” Merlin began. “Uh. Well, Gwaine took the truck out that way this morning to see what he could do for your car, and it was…gone.”

“Gone!” Arthur shouted. “What? You mean stolen? I can’t fucking believe this!”

Merlin seemed a bit stunned at his outburst, but otherwise remained unmoved. Arthur looked around the room. “Where’s my cell? Should’ve been in my pants.”

“Gwen’s washing your pants, but there wasn’t anything in the pockets; I checked myself.”

“ _Washing my pants?_ But they’re dry clean only! Armani, for Christ’s sake!” Arthur yelled again. Suddenly recalling that he’d placed his phone on the console to charge after speaking with his father, he groaned. “Bloody _hell!”_ He ran a hand through his blond hair and paced the room.

“Why don’t you come have some breakfast with us, and we’ll discuss this, yeah?” Merlin suggested calmly.

Arthur took a deep breath and nodded his head, not having much of a choice in the matter. He was pretty much at these hippies’ mercy.

Bare-footed, Arthur padded after Merlin, wondering if his parents were named Starshine and Oakleaf and that’s why they’d named him after a bird.

Arthur looked about. The house had white-washed walls and was sparsely furnished with a hodge-podge of pieces that looked hand-made—and poorly hand-made at that.  

Somebody’s crazy artwork donned the walls—mostly portraits of people missing essential body parts. The bold splashes of color stood out amongst all the simplicity, though, giving some character to the plain room.

There didn’t seem to be any lamps or overhead lights. There were, however, a lot of windows and a large skylight.

Merlin, a few steps ahead of Arthur, wore the same type of outfit Arthur had on, except his tunic was blue. He also wore sandals on his feet. When they entered a great room, Arthur caught sight of a large wooden table in the center where several people had already gathered to eat. Gwen blushed and avoided his gaze, and Arthur took the opportunity to study her more thoroughly.

Today her long, brown hair was loose and curly. She had wide brown eyes and a sort of apologetic smile, but that might be due to walking in on him naked, Arthur realized. The tunic she wore with blue jeans was tie-dyed in bright colors, and she wore red and yellow beads around her neck.

A roguish man with longish brown hair and a close beard and mustache sat next to Gwen in an oversized wooden chair. “This is Gwaine,” Merlin introduced him.

“It’s a pleasure,” Gwaine winked at Arthur, who wasn’t sure how to react to that. Winking back seemed wrong, so he tried a pleasant smile. Next to Gwaine, on a high stool, was an old man with long, grey hair that touched his slumped shoulders. He looked, to Arthur’s mind, like a life-long hippy. 

“I’m Gaius, pleased to meet you,” the old hippy said. “And this is my wife, Alice.” He indicated an older, motherly woman beside him.

“Likewise,” Arthur answered Gaius before smiling and nodding a greeting at Alice.

A very tall, muscular man with closely cropped hair came in from another room with a pitcher in his hand, setting it on the table.  He was easily the size of two men instead of one.

“Arthur, this is Percival,” Merlin said, and then, indicating a tall, ginger-haired man, “this is Leon.”

A tanned Latino with an open, honest face appeared in the doorway, his dark hair gleaming in the sun from the window. “Lance, this is our guest, Arthur,” Merlin introduced him.

“Hello, Arthur,” Lance said cheerfully, taking a seat at Gwen’s other side. Merlin indicated a pugnacious-faced man sitting by Leon, “And this is Will.” 

An older woman who introduced herself as Hunith brought a loaf of bread and some porridge to the long table and sat down next to Leon.

“Is this everyone who lives here?” Arthur asked, taking a seat on a chair that didn’t look very different from the stump it had obviously been carved from. Arthur thought it the most uncomfortable thing he’d ever sat upon, and that included the back-breaking seats in his father’s conference room that were expressly made to keep employees from dropping off to sleep during long meetings.

“There’s also my brother Elyan and his wife Elena,” Gwen answered. “They ate earlier so they could go out into the apple orchard. Then there’s Gilli, who mostly stays with his goats. And Vivienne  
 is with her baby, who is sick. Her husband Cenred has taken the truck to go trade with a lady who raises bees for honey. That’s everyone.”

Merlin passed Arthur a bowl of porridge, and Leon passed him the pitcher of milk and a glass. Arthur poured some and sniffed at it.

“Goat’s milk,” Merlin told him. “Try it; it’s good.”

“I think I’m allergic,” Arthur said, pushing the glass away, and caught Merlin’s suppressed smile.

“Tastes a bit like creamer,” Leon told him helpfully, but Arthur just shook his head.

“I’ll stick to water, thanks.” Arthur dug into the porridge, which tasted pretty bad. Hunith nudged some honey toward him, and Arthur obediently spooned some in. It still wasn’t very good, but Arthur was famished.

“So do you think there’s any way one of you could drive me to my hotel in Lancaster?” he asked after a moment.

Everyone at the table looked at one another. “That’s pretty far from here, mate,” Gwaine told him. “Is that where you were headed? You were going in the wrong direction.”

“I figured that out,” Arthur said sourly. “I’ll gladly pay you for the gas once we get there,” Arthur assured him.

“It’s not that,” Merlin replied, placing a hand on Arthur’s. It was warm and brought him the same strange feeling of calm that he’d noticed the night before. “It’s that our old truck would never make it.”

“Are you telling me that thing you brought me here in is your only vehicle?” Arthur’s eyes widened.

“That ‘thing’ is my truck,” Gaius informed him, eyebrow raised impossibly high.

“Do you have a phone?” Arthur asked, without much hope.

“No,” Will told him a bit gruffly. “And no electricity, either, before you ask. Our water comes from a well. We live here to keep things simple, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Will, you don’t have to be so rude,” Gwen admonished.

“ _I’m_ being rude?” Will asked, exasperated. “He turns his nose up at our goat’s milk, can barely conceal his disdain at the porridge, and insults Gaius’ truck! And this is after Merlin spends three days nursing him! He’s the one being rude, here!” He jerked his head back around to Arthur. “Now I suppose you’re going to insult the furniture I made!”

 “ _You_ made these stumps of wood we’re sitting on?” Arthur asked. “No wonder I have a splinter in my arse!”

Will got up so fast, his chair toppled over and rolled away. Arthur smirked. “And I don’t think chairs are meant to roll,” he advised cuttingly. “Might want to hack off a bit more of the stump next time.”

Will was on him in an instant, and the two men fell to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs and grunted cursing.

Several pairs of hands reached out to pull them apart, and Will was taken forcibly from the house by Gwaine and Lance.

“He has a bit of a temper problem, doesn’t he?” Arthur observed, breathing raggedly as he sat down on a sloping bench resting against the wall.

“He works hard to make us the furniture,” Merlin told him. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Ever thought about buying some in a _store_?” Arthur asked. “My God, this is the 21 st century we’re living in!”

Merlin pulled him into a bedroom while the others went back to eating. “Arthur, we moved here to get away from the 21st century. We want to live simpler lives.”

“Seems to me the simple life only makes things more complicated for you,” Arthur replied. “I mean, what’s simpler than walking in a store and purchasing some chairs rather than trying to whittle them out of a tree?” He sighed, taking a seat on a double bed. “Honestly, Merlin. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, I do. But I need to catch a flight back to London. I help run an important company there, and there are a million and one things I should be doing right now.” Arthur felt a bit sick at the thought of all of those things and the way his father’s mouth drew into a thin line when he was disappointed in him. Not to mention how Uther Pendragon’s young wife eagerly waited for the genuine Amish artwork she’d sent him there for. Merlin sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll do our best to get you there, but I’m telling you the truth when I say Gaius’s truck won’t make it.”

“What about the nearest phone?” Arthur asked. “Surely there’s someplace you go for supplies. And what do you do when someone gets hurt?”

“We grow all our own food and make everything we use,” Merlin answered. “We have sheep, and Gwen and Hunith make our clothes on a loom.” Arthur’s eyes couldn’t have gotten any wider at that. _A loom?_ “Lance’s been to med school, and he takes care of our medical needs. This is the way we like to live.”

Arthur looked at him in bewilderment and shook his head. “I don’t believe this. I’m in the Twilight Zone.” He stood up. “Well, there’s nothing for it but for me to start out walking for Lancaster. Do you have a pair of shoes I can have? I promise to mail you some money when I hit civilization. And can you point me in the right direction? A map would be even better.”

Merlin got to his feet. “You can’t be serious!” he laughed. “I don’t know if you realize this, but you almost died, Arthur! You’re fever was very high! You can’t possibly walk all the way to Lancaster in this heat.”

Arthur shrugged. “Somebody’s bound to come along sooner or later and give me a ride.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. We rarely see anyone else on this road. We chose if for its remoteness, after all. I don’t know how you got so turned around that you ended up way out here.” Merlin’s blue eyes studied him.

Arthur suspected it was the argument he’d gotten into with his father when he’d dared to suggest that Sophia might have only married him for his money, but he wasn’t going to tell Merlin that. “I had a lot on my mind,” he said instead.

“Look,” Merlin began levelly, “a guy usually comes this way once a month or so to buy some of Gaius’ home-baked goods. We haven’t seen him in a while, so he’s bound to show up soon. He’ll give you a ride to Lancaster, I’m sure.”

Arthur didn’t see where he had much of a choice. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. Merlin found him a pair of shoes, and Arthur followed him out of the house and into the bright sunlight, which afforded Arthur his first good look at the structure. It was simply made of wood and had several windows as well as a skylight, which Arthur had noticed when he was in the main room. There were other buildings scattered about, but none as large as the main one.

“You must go to a general store sometimes,” Arthur ventured as he walked with Merlin across a grassy field towards some trees in the distance. “You can’t make _everything_.”

“We do make a trip every few months. The truck usually isn’t this unreliable. Cendred is going to take a look at it as soon as he gets a chance.”

“Why did you decide to live like this?” Arthur asked. “I mean, you personally.”

“Mum and I—my mum is Hunith that you met inside—were at loose ends after my father died. She’s always been close to nature and a bit of an introvert, and I was perfectly willing to try this out. Her friend Gaius and his wife were all for it, so here we are. We’ve been here a few years now. Gwen and Lance are the newest people to join us.”

Arthur tried to imagine living in this place but couldn’t. He also got the feeling that Merlin wasn’t telling him everything, but he didn’t push. They approached rows of trees that were heavy with apples. Merlin called to someone within the dense branches and a dark-skinned man appeared.

“This is Elyan, Gwen’s brother,” Merlin introduced him to Arthur. He shook hands with the young man as Merlin explained to Elyan that Arthur was the one they’d found on the road who’d been sick for the past few days.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re on the mend,” Elyan told him. Merlin spoke to him a few moments about the apples, and then Arthur and Merlin headed out.

“So, Merlin…” Arthur ventured. “Does the main house have a bathroom?” He’d already relieved himself in the bushes, but now he was thinking more along the lines of washing.

“We’ve built a couple of outhouses,” Merlin answered. “Don’t you remember me taking you out to one a few times? You were a bit woozy, but you walked with my help.”

Arthur shook his head, thinking he must have been bad off if he couldn’t remember that.

Merlin continued, “As for bathing, a tributary to the Susquehanna River does nicely for that. It’s also where we wash our clothes—with eco-friendly soap, of course.”

“Of course.”

“The men usually go down to the river to bathe in the evening, and the women in the morning.”

 _God, it’s like “Little House on the Prairie” or something,_ Arthur thought.

Without warning, Arthur’s head began to swim and his knees buckled. Merlin caught hold of Arthur at the elbow, encircling his waist with his other arm, helping him to stay on his feet. Arthur felt energy move through him where Merlin’s hands touched him, and after a moment he was fine again.

“What was that?” Arthur asked Merlin when Arthur could stand on his own again.

“Probably just residual weakness from your fever,” Merlin answered. “You must be overdoing it. Let’s get you inside.” He began to slowly guide Arthur toward the main house.

“I meant what was that feeling I had when you touched me? It was like a jolt of warmth…I felt it before when I was sick in bed.”

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know. Our bodies do strange things when we’re ill.”

Arthur frowned, knowing there was more to it than that, but he left it alone. He allowed Merlin to put him to bed and he slept a few hours, and then spent the rest of the afternoon touring the commune with Merlin. Gilli, the goat boy, proudly showed off his goats penned up outside his small house—more like a shack, really—that sat leaning a bit to the left, strategically placed downwind of the commune. About nineteen years of age, Gilli smelled a bit like a goat himself, but seemed to live happily enough with his cloven-hoofed friends.  Arthur tried not to be too obvious about holding his breath.

At dinner, Will spent an inordinate amount of time bent over his food, glaring at Arthur while gnawing his chicken leg like it was a part of Arthur’s body. On his tour, Merlin had waved his hand in the direction of the covered area where Will made his furniture, but he didn’t take Arthur over there, obviously afraid of another fight.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Arthur said sweetly, eyeing the belligerent man over a glass of water and jolting everyone out of the uncomfortable silence.

“Oh, I was just thinking how fun it would be to drown you in the river when we go to bathe,” Will told Arthur just as nicely.

“Will!” Gwen admonished. “We don’t like violence here; you know that.”

“Nobody would miss him,” Will stated sullenly. “I’ll bet nobody’s even looking for the wanker.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, Will’s words hitting too close to the truth to deny them.

“We are living here as a loving community,” Lance reminded Will.

“Of which he has no part!” Will reminded back.

“He’s our guest,” Gwaine said firmly, “and we’ve spoken to you before about your anger issues, Will.”

This shut Will up. Arthur gave Gwaine an assessing look and, to his consternation, Gwaine gave him one in return, only his look wasn’t assessing Arthur’s _character_. Arthur found himself blushing as he looked away, focusing his attention on the others at the table.

It was evident by their shared looks and frequent touches that Leon and Percival were a couple. Cenred kept mostly quiet, his wife and baby still absent due to the baby’s illness. Suggestions on what remedies Lance might try to ease the boy’s congestion were bandied about the table as they ate.

When they’d cleared the plates and Arthur had helped to wash them in the large sink (mostly to prove that he wasn’t a total prat), the men grabbed towels and headed outside. The sinking of the sun had cooled things down considerably, and the sky spread out clear above them, millions of stars stretching as far as the eye could see. Arthur wondered when the last time was that he’d seen the stars laid out like that, or when he had even bothered to look.

The men walked together silently over the fields and down behind the orchard until they reached the water. The creek was wide and quite deep in places, particularly after the run-off of a recent storm. Silently the men stripped off their clothes, and Arthur followed suit, his eyes surreptitiously roaming over the various male bodies.

He had always had a taste for both genders, but recently Arthur had found that his desire for men greatly outweighed his desire for women. His last two long-term relationships had been with men, although ‘long-term’ for him barely spanned three months. All of the men of the commune had nice bodies, although they were different. Arthur found them all appealing in various degrees—well, maybe not Gaius. Percival was the most muscular, but Arthur had never been particularly fond of being towered over by a man that he wouldn’t be able to pin in a wrestling match. He rather enjoyed taking the lead in things and had always topped, and Percival seemed the type who would never bottom, and who might throw one around a bit in bed. Arthur felt sure that Leon bottomed in that relationship.

Gwaine, who was doing his own fair share of looking at Arthur’s body, had a nice physique, but something about his lewd glare put Arthur off. Again and again Arthur’s gaze returned to Merlin, who was rather skinny, to be honest, but something about his pale skin in the moonlight and the pert way his arse stuck out made Arthur stiff in the groin. The sharp lines of Merlin’s body were graceful without being feminine, drawing the eye, and Arthur found himself unable to look away. Arthur hastened to get into the water before anyone took notice of the state of his cock, which was a definite possibility with Gwaine, whose eyes had wandered south of Arthur’s waist more than once already.

There was more to Merlin than his body, Arthur knew. He’d noticed how sharp Merlin’s mind was as he’d explained to Arthur how they ran the commune. But his jet black hair and fair skin, pretty mouth and brilliant smile, high cheekbones and delicate bone structure all combined to make Arthur ultra- aware of Merlin physically every time he was around.

Leon placed an oddly shaped bar of soap in Arthur’s hand. “We make it ourselves,” he told him.

“Of course you do,” Arthur murmured as he waded into the cool water. He glanced at Merlin, who was sitting on the bank, his feet and bum in the creek, and admired the curve of his long neck and the way his collarbones poked out rather provocatively. Arthur lathered himself (with difficulty—the soap was not cooperative) and found himself riveted by the slope of Merlin’s shoulders and the breadth of his chest. Soon he found his eyes lingering at the heavy package nestled between Merlin’s ivory thighs.

“Done with the soap?" Gaius’s gravelly voice jolted him out of his lascivious thoughts, and had the bar of soap been the slightest bit slippery, he would have lost it in the creek. It was more like a rock than soap, however, and Arthur handed the bar to the old man and leaned back to wet his hair in the water.

Arthur had thought bathing in a run-off from a river would be disgusting, but he was surprised to find it rather soothing. The sand was soft beneath his feet, and the water felt wonderful on his naked body. He wasn’t sure he preferred it to a bubbling Jacuzzi, but he had to admit it had its merits. The breeze felt cool on his wet skin, and the stars overhead were an awesome spectacle.

A hand on the back of Arthur’s neck startled him as someone started lathering his hair. Blinking up, his eyes met a leering smile. “Just helping you a bit with your hair,” Gwaine purred. “It’s so golden…you’ll want to get it nice and clean.”

“Uh, thanks…” Arthur was a bit thrown by the feel of Gwaine’s hand sliding down to the small of his bare back. When it began to slip further downward, Arthur jerked upright. “I’ll just, uh, rinse it then. Thanks again.” He held his breath and sunk beneath the water, scuttling backward and reemerging several feet away. He caught Merlin smiling at him with amusement. Embarrassed, Arthur moved off into deeper waters.

As it got later and the moon climbed higher in the sky, Arthur looked around. Merlin had washed and climbed back up on the bank; Percival and Leon were nowhere to be seen; Gwaine helped Gaius out of the water and into his clothes (Arthur liked to think that Gwaine was just being nice and there was nothing going on _there_ ); Elyan had left a long time ago; Will was keeping his distance; and Gilli had come by for a quick wash-off, obviously reluctant to leave his goats for too long. Arthur hadn’t noticed when Cenred had disappeared, but he must have gone home to his wife and baby.  Arthur moved over onto the bank, his knees bent, allowing the still relatively warm evening air to dry him.

“Wishing you were in your hotel, I’ll bet,” Merlin said as he moved to recline beside Arthur. Arthur immediately got goose bumps up the side of his body where Merlin barely touched him and had the urge to reach out and touch the other man’s skin, pearlescent in the moonlight.

He considered Merlin’s words, surprised to find that he hadn’t been wishing that at all. “It’s rather…pleasant here,” he admitted. “There’s usually a phone ringing or something for me to be doing. Here it’s just…quiet. Peaceful.”

Merlin grinned. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Peaceful is exactly why I’m here.”

Arthur looked over at Merlin’s inky black hair pasted to his pale forehead. “Surely you had some attachments you left behind when you came here. A girlfriend, maybe?” Arthur asked, unable to keep from fishing for information. The insects sang in the trees around them and fireflies flicked on and off in the darkness. Nearby, Arthur could hear Will splashing like a grizzly out of the water on the opposite bank .

Merlin shook his head, although his eyes got far away for a moment. “No. No one. I like it here. It’s uncomplicated. What about you? Someone must be worried about you. Were you supposed to phone anyone?”

“Just my father,” Arthur answered. “And he’s not likely to worry.”

“When are you expected home?”

“Tonight, but he won’t notice I’m not back until I don’t show up at work tomorrow. He’ll be angry I haven’t phoned him, though. Probably thinks I’m ignoring his calls.”

“You don’t have a wife?” Merlin asked. “Girlfriend?”

“Nobody,” Arthur replied, gazing at the full moon. It was a little depressing, actually, to realize he didn’t have anyone likely to be thinking about him at the moment. He kept his work relationships carefully professional, and the only other family member he had besides his father was his sister, Morgana, and she lived thousands of miles away in Japan with her husband and children. Not that they’d ever been particularly close.

Arthur didn’t want Merlin’s pity, however, so he pushed himself up and said crisply, “That’s the way I like it, though. No ties to bind me.” He sat with his arms draped over his knees and looked at the trees in the distance.

“What do you think your father will do when you don’t show up tomorrow?” Merlin asked.

“He’ll check my flat, I suppose. I’m sure he’s already tried to ring me on my mobile several times. I guess the rental car company will tell Father I never returned the Jag.” He sighed. “At some point he might notify the police, unless Sophia talks him out of it.”

“Who’s Sophia?”

“His new wife. She’s at least twenty years younger than he is, and a royal bitch, at that. She loathes me.”

“Really? Why?” Merlin looked interested.

Arthur shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess because I might end up with some of my father’s money someday. Or because his mind occasionally lights on me, and that means he isn’t thinking of her. Whatever her reasons, she’ll win. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”

“It sounds like you don’t have much in your life other than your work and your father,” Merlin commented after a time, and Arthur felt his back stiffening in annoyance.

“It’s better than being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere making jellies and soap,” he snapped, standing up and striding into the water and across the stream to where he’d left his clothes.

Merlin didn’t follow him.

~~~O~~~O~~~

The following day, Arthur found himself wandering about by himself, basically avoiding everyone else, _especially_ Merlin. He didn’t take criticism well, and when he thought about it (which he’d never done before, never having had the time or opportunity to do any real analyzing), he supposed that stemmed from the fact that as long as he could remember, his father had been criticizing his every move. In fact, he shuddered to think of what the man would say after it was discovered that he’d gotten lost in bloody _Amish country_ and wound up flitting around a _commune_ wearing a _tunic_.

So, since Arthur never said a word back to his father when he criticized him, Arthur always found himself lashing out when others did it. And for some reason that Arthur didn’t want to look into very deeply, it bothered him more than usual when Merlin did it. Of course, it had really been more of an observation than a criticism, but Arthur couldn’t help taking it as one. He knew that he didn’t make friends easily, and that no one could ever date him for long; once the initial rabid sex stage wore off, there seemed to be nothing left. He suspected it was because he was essentially an empty vessel. A particularly disgruntled ex-girlfriend of his had told him that once—there was nothing to him except for money, looks, and sex appeal.

Arthur thought about this, his heart heavy, as he wandered aimlessly, soon finding himself in the orchard. When he heard voices, he moved to investigate, keeping himself hidden by the dense branches. He was mildly surprised to find Gwen and Lance leaning against a large apple tree. Lance looked at Gwen longingly, but Gwen kept her face turned away. Not wanting to speak with anyone, Arthur remained hidden. He was about to turn to leave, but stopped out of curiosity when he heard the emotion in Lance’s voice.

“It isn’t fair, but it’s the way it is out in the world. Gwen… here we can be who we want to be.”

“It isn’t that easy, Lance. And maybe…maybe they’re right.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this!”

“Lance, I was raised with certain beliefs, and they aren’t the same as yours! We can’t just ignore that!”

Arthur heard Lance’s sigh, sounding more weary than impatient. “And we can’t ignore that we love each other.”

“Our families don’t want us together. We won’t be here forever, Lance. The world waits for us outside this place.”

“Gwen, here no one cares if we’re a couple…We can stay here as long as we like. Hell, look at Percy and Leon!”

“Don’t. I’m going back to the house. Please don’t follow me.”

Arthur made a hasty retreat before Gwen could discover him listening to their private conversation. He hadn’t meant to, but the pleading in the man’s voice and the sadness in the woman’s had drawn him.

So Lance and Gwen wanted to be together, but something, Arthur guessed bigotry, stopped them. He came out of the cover of the trees and continued to walk, the sun bright overhead.  He stopped when a voice sounded from above.

“Hello, Arthur!”

Arthur looked up into the branches to find Elena perched on one of them. Blonde and perpetually cheerful, Elena seemed more like a child than an adult, and Arthur didn’t mind her company. When he’d first spoken to her, he’d thought she was a bit spacey, but he quickly realized otherwise.

“Good morning, Elena. What in the world are you doing up in that tree?”

“Just sitting,” Elena smiled. I love it up here. Would you care to join me?”

Arthur eyed her skeptically. “You’re asking me to climb a tree?” he asked dubiously.

“Well, if you don’t think you can…”

“Of course I _can_ ,” Arthur scoffed, missing Elena’s triumphant grin. Grabbing hold of a branch, he hoisted himself upward and managed to scramble onto the fat limb beneath the one where Elena sat. It really was rather nice there, with the breeze blowing and the slowly ripening apples around his head.

“Are you going crazy here with nothing to do?” Elena asked him, swinging her legs and leaning her head back against the trunk of the tree.

“A bit,” Arthur answered.

“I guess you’re missing your busy lifestyle,” Elena said. “It can be rather addictive.”

Arthur squinted up at her. “You sound as though you know all about it.”

Elena laughed. “Oh, I know, all right. Do you think Elyan and I have been tending to trees all our lives? We both grew up in affluent families. We interned at the same company. It was when we decided to get married that we ran into problems, and we made the decision to join Merlin and his mother on this crazy scheme of theirs…but I haven’t regretted it.”

Arthur was quite shocked at this. For some reason, he’d pictured these people tumbling off a multi-colored bus with flowers in their hair, rejected offshoots of their parents’ wild days.

“Can you believe that Elyan, only twenty-seven-years-old, had a _heart attack,_ he was so stressed out?” She shook her head, her blonde ponytail swaying. “It wasn’t worth it.”

“Wow,” Arthur said. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Or fortunate, depending on how you look at it,” Elena told him. “We were letting life pass us by and the system swallow us up. We’ve been here a year now, and we feel great! Never been happier. In fact, we’re expecting a baby!”

“Congratulations!” Arthur told her, taken aback. “Are you sure you should be up in this tree?”

Elena giggled. “I’m only seven weeks along. You’re the first one I’ve told!”

Arthur felt inexplicably moved by that, and looked away before he embarrassed himself with the sappy expression he was sure was on his face. _You’re such a twat_ , he told himself sternly.

 _Arthur, it is unmanly to show emotion. Stop those tears right this instant!_ He could hear his father as plainly as if he were there in front of him.

“Where’s Merlin?” Elena asked after a moment of pleasant silence.

“I haven’t seen him today,” Arthur answered.

“He usually works in the garden in the morning,” Elena said. “And then he visits a bit with poor Gilli.

“Why do you say ‘poor’ Gilli?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, he’s just had such an unfortunate time of it. His dad died when he was young—a drunk driver hit him—and the rest of his family was killed in a fire six months ago. They used to live next to Merlin and his mum. Hunith and Merlin went back to fetch him and bring him here when it happened. Gilli doesn’t talk much to anyone except his goats…and Merlin, but Merlin’s easy to talk to.”

“So are you,” Arthur said truthfully and then blushed. He didn’t know where that had come from. Elena was going to think he was an idiot.

But Elena only smiled and thanked him. “Actually, that’s really nice to hear. Some people don’t like to talk to me because I chatter so much.”

“Well, I think you’re charming,” Arthur said sincerely.

“Elena!” a male voice called.

“That’ll be Elyan,” Elena said, moving to lower herself from the branch.

“Let me help you,” Arthur said quickly, steadying her with his hands.  Elena giggled, but didn’t object. When she was safely on the ground, she waved to him and ran off.

Arthur sat there a while longer, enjoying the breeze and the scent of the trees, before he climbed down and walked back toward the main area of the commune. He put a hand to his head, thinking he felt a little warm—warmer than the day warranted. He hoped the flu that he’d had wasn’t returning.

Arthur found Merlin in the garden as Elena had predicted. Arthur was no longer angry with him, but he wondered if perhaps Merlin was angry with Arthur. He had acted rudely, stalking off like that the night before.

He cleared his throat, and Merlin looked up from where he was pulling weeds and putting them into a basket.

“Want to help?” Merlin surprised him by asking. Arthur didn’t like getting dirt under his nails, especially not dirt that some animal might have crapped in, but he was so pleased the other man didn’t seem angry with him, he knelt down and began tugging on the weeds.

“Wait,” Merlin stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Those there,” he pointed, “are _not_ weeds. These others are.” He let go and Arthur wondered what Merlin thought of him, not even being able to tell a weed from a plant. He ducked his head and continued pulling, being careful to only remove the weeds.

_Arthur, you dimwit, sit up straight and do it right!_

Every piano recital Arthur could recall where he’d made a mistake.

_Only fools have to be told things twice, son._

Any time Uther had taken the time to show Arthur how to do anything at all. (Usually he left that up the the hired help, though. The butler had taught Arthur to ride a bike.)

_Don’t daydream, son. Pay attention!_

Uther and Sophia’s wedding rehearsal when Arthur hadn’t stepped up at the appropriate time.

Arthur didn’t realize he was so brutally yanking at the weeds until Merlin’s hand touched his shoulder.

Arthur stopped, breathing a bit heavily.

“Want to talk about it?” Merlin asked, his eyes as blue as the sky behind him, but Arthur shook his head. He couldn’t imagine talking to anyone about the way his father made him feel.

Shakily, Arthur stood up and strode toward the house, chin tucked down.

Merlin watched him go, a frown on his face. The man puzzled him. On the surface, he was a bit of a prat. But underneath all of that, Merlin sensed a lot of pain and loneliness. He found himself wanting to reach out to Arthur, but that scared him. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. It scared him even more that Merlin’s healing abilities had reacted to Arthur, they’d been dormant so long. What did it mean? And why hadn’t he been able to help Tristan when he’d so desperately needed it?

Better not to get too close. Arthur would be leaving soon, and Merlin didn’t want to miss him. Still, he found himself getting up and following Arthur into the house.

When Arthur got inside, he took several deep breaths. He didn’t know what was happening to him—it was like suddenly, now that he had time to stop and just _think_ , all his insecurities were coming to the fore—every single unkind word his father had ever said to him, every bad thing he thought about himself. All the reasons why he’d never had a relationship—nothing more than a one night stand. He went to the table and poured water from a pitcher into a bowl before splashing it onto his face. Leaning on his arms, he squeezed his eyes shut. He just wanted to leave—go home where he was busy and didn’t have time for things like _feelings_. Or life.

Straightening, Arthur walked around the great room, looking at the bizarre paintings on the wall. Now that he really looked, they seemed familiar. One in particular drew his attention. It was a fragmented face, sort of Picasso-esque. The eyes were in the wrong places, but they were so full of pain, they drew you in. And they were very blue…with just a tint of gold.

“That’s a portrait of me,” a voice at Arthur’s elbow made him jump.

“Shit, Merlin!”

“Sorry,” Merlin gazed at him with the eyes in the picture, minus the gold.

“Who painted these?” Arthur asked.

“Mum. She’s always loved to paint people. They just come out a bit…skewed.”

“A bit,” Arthur agreed, looking at the other paintings. Now he recognized Gaius…and Elena. “There’s something about them, though,” he admitted, “that really draws the eye.”

“I know. I told her they were good,” Merlin agreed.

“But they radiate unhappiness,” Arthur continued, without thinking. “So much hurt.”

Merlin nodded. “She takes people’s pain and puts it into the paintings.”

“What?” Arthur frowned, confused.

“You tell her about your pain, she paints it, and it helps you heal,” Merlin explained.

Arthur chuckled. “But that’s impossible!”

Merlin shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me—you wouldn’t be the only one. Gwen hasn’t let her paint her picture, even though Mum wants to.”

This conversation made Arthur think of something else. “The way you touch me…you do the same thing.”

Merlin blushed, nodding. “I think maybe I helped to heal you.”

“You can do that?” Arthur knew he shouldn’t believe in such things, but he’d felt it…the power coming off Merlin. It had made him warm inside.

“Sometimes,” Merlin replied. “I mean, I have before-sort of. It developed when I was small, but then just seemed to disappear. Until now.” Merlin’s voice sounded strained. “I thought I’d try it with you, just in case.”

“Thank you. Why didn’t you tell me? When I asked you before?”

“People don’t always believe it. I’m surprised you do.” Merlin gave Arthur one of his huge smiles. “And you’re welcome.”

~~~O~~~O~~~O~~~

That night Arthur tossed and turned, finally getting out of the narrow, single bed and going into the kitchen for a drink. The only thing he could find, as no one had made a trip to the well after dinner, was the covered pitcher of goat’s milk. Wrinkling his nose, Arthur poured a little into a glass and took a tentative sip.

It was thick and…he simply couldn’t describe it. All he could think was _goat_. Putting the glass down, he shook his head and headed back to bed. He stopped when he noticed someone huddled in a wool blanket on the floor across the room. Moving forward, he recognized the inky black hair and stopped.

“Merlin?”

The figure mumbled and turned over. Crouching low, Arthur poked Merlin’s shoulder. “What are you doing on the floor?”

One blue eye opened and regarded Arthur sleepily. “Um. Sleeping?”

“Yes, but why on the floor?” Arthur persisted.

“You’ve got my bed.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “I do? You mean to tell me you’ve been sleeping on the floor because of me?”

“S’okay. I’ve done it before,” Merlin answered and tried to roll back over, but Arthur wouldn’t let him.

“Merlin, this is ridiculous. I won’t take your bed any longer. Let me sleep on the floor.”

“No, you’re a guest!” Merlin protested, trying to pull his wrist out of Arthur’s steel grip.

“Not if I have to stay here indefinitely until someone with a real car comes by,” Arthur stated. “Now get up and go to bed. I’ll sleep here.”

Merlin sat up. “You are not sleeping on the floor.”

“Well, neither are you,” Arthur insisted stubbornly.

“Go get in that bed!” Merlin ordered, pointing toward his bedroom.

“No!” Arthur refused emphatically, lying down on the floor and reaching for the blanket.

It seemed they had reached an impasse.

Merlin jerked the blanket out of Arthur’s grip and covered himself, turning his back to Arthur. Arthur sighed and spread himself out on the floor behind him.

“I can’t believe you won’t share your blanket,” he said after a moment.

“Go to bed, Arthur,” Merlin grumbled. “You’re too posh to sleep on the floor.”

Another few minutes passed. “Merlin, I’m cold!” Arthur yanked the blanket off the other man and rolled himself up in it like a sausage in dough. “Give that back!” Merlin growled, sitting up indignantly.

“Go get into the bed, _Mer_ lin!” Arthur ordered.

“No, you go!” Merlin cried, exasperated.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Gwen scowled from her doorway. “Come share my bigger bed, and I’ll sleep in yours, Merlin.” She staggered into Merlin’s bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Merlin and Arthur stared at each other before Merlin got up with a huff and headed for Gwen’s room. “Come on, then,” he called to Arthur, who got to his feet and followed.

Gwen’s bed was a double, and the two men fit comfortably in it. Merlin turned his back to Arthur and faced the wall. Arthur turned to face the door, but when their bums touched, he jerked and flopped back over so that he was looking at the back of Merlin’s head. It took a while to relax, but finally he drifted off to sleep.

Arthur awoke with his morning erection pressed against Merlin’s arse. It took a few minutes to realize where he was and who he had pinned against the wall. When he’d worked it all out, he froze where he was, hoping to hell that Merlin wasn’t awake.

“Arthur?”

_Oh, shit._

He cleared his throat. “Yes, Merlin?”

“Could you please get your morning boner out of my bum?”

“Certainly,” Arthur blushed crimson and scooted away.

“Thanks.”

Silence reigned for several beats of the clock before both men broke into laughter.

After that, sleeping with Merlin became something Arthur enjoyed. They’d often whisper in the night like brothers after everyone else had gone to sleep. Merlin confided that his father’s leaving had broken up his mother so badly that she’d had a nervous breakdown. Painting had been her therapy, and that was when she discovered she could help people that way. Arthur still wasn’t sure he believed it, but he didn’t say so. Then again, he believed in Merlin’s healing touch, so why shouldn’t he believe that Hunith could paint people’s emotional pain away? He told Merlin a little bit about his father, skirting the issues they had with one another.  Merlin hinted at a former lover being part of his “pain,” but he didn’t elaborate, and Arthur didn’t push.

“I really wish Gwen would let Hunith paint her. She’s hurting a lot right now,” Merlin confided late one night when neither man could sleep. They lay side by side, whispering in the dark. Arthur had seen the unhappiness on Gwen’s face during dinner, and Lance had been conspicuously absent from the table.

“I overheard her and Lance talking one day,” Arthur admitted. “It sounded like Lance wants a permanent relationship with her, but she won’t give in. I didn’t really mean to listen so long…but I did hear her say something about prejudices at home.”

Merlin sighed. “I don’t think it’s a secret, exactly. I mean, everyone here knows. Both Gwen’s and Lance’s parents disapproved of their interest in one another. Gwen’s father is black and her mother white, and she’s Catholic. Lance is Latino, but his mother is a born again fundamentalist with a real dislike for Catholicism.  Gwen had a terrible row with her parents and left home, but she feels she’s going to have to go back.”

“That’s…sad.” Arthur didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah, it is. They really love each other.”

“I’ve never had a relationship like that,” Arthur found himself admitting.

“I had one once. But I—“ Merlin stopped a moment before continuing. “I couldn’t help him. He got sick…I tried to heal him, but I couldn’t.”

Arthur swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“His name was Tristan. We were together a year. He was HIV positive…he got pneumonia and died.”

Arthur drew a breath, but words stuck in his throat. He reached out and touched Merlin’s hand, trying to comfort him; Merlin sounded so sad.

“I don’t have it…I’ve been tested several times,” Merlin told him, and Arthur wondered if Merlin thought Arthur would be worried he’d catch it from Merlin just lying there beside him. He squeezed Merlin’s hand reassuringly. The thought had never occurred to him, but still, he was glad Merlin had told him—he didn’t want Merlin to be sick.

“I tried to heal him, but it didn’t work,” Merlin said quietly.

They were silent after that.  Arthur watched Merlin’s profile as he settled into slumber, but it was a long time before Arthur could fall asleep himself.

~~~O~~~O~~~O~~~

The days blended one into another. Arthur settled into a routine of assisting in the commune where he was needed. He found he was pretty good with his hands, which frankly surprised him, and began helping Lance build a bigger chicken house. Arthur often wondered if his father had people looking for him, and he knew he really should be trying harder to get home rather than just waiting around for someone with a car to visit the commune. Gwaine and Cenred had been working on the truck, but it was still unreliable.

Arthur couldn’t honestly say he minded.

Without meaning to, Arthur had grown attached to Merlin. Sleeping in the same bed with him was more intimate than anything Arthur had ever shared with another person, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He liked the way the bed was always warm and snug. He liked it when Merlin occasionally threw an arm over him in his sleep. He liked the way the hair on Merlin’s legs tickled him under the covers, and he very much liked the way Merlin occasionally pulled Arthur close like a pillow or a teddy bear.

He found himself really, really wanting to kiss Merlin. The man’s lips were exceptionally pretty—all plump and bow-like. Arthur had never seen lips like those on a man or a woman, and he wanted to run his tongue over them before slipping it between them. He got hard thinking about it sometimes, especially when Merlin was right beside him in the bed, his breath coming in little puffs of air as he slept.

But Arthur was pretty sure Merlin wasn’t interested, because he never flirted with Arthur or gave him any inclination that he might be feeling similarly. And he still didn’t fully understand why Merlin chose to give up everything he knew in life to live permanently in a place like Avalon.  Arthur knew it had to do with losing Tristan, but Arthur didn’t have the words to ask Merlin why he thought hiding away was better than simply moving on. Intimate conversations weren’t at the top of Arthur’s list of things he did well.

~~~OOO~~~

Arthur stood on a ladder, pounding nails into the roof of the new chicken coop, his shirt off and the sun beating down on his back and shoulders. The days were getting cooler, and Arthur wondered how much longer he’d be at the commune. The man who occasionally stopped for Gaius’ baked goods still hadn’t been by, and Arthur was beginning to think he never would come. He almost couldn’t remember what it was like to sit behind a desk and stare at a computer while answering numerous phone calls and planning out executive meetings and business strategies—things that he’d done every day of his life for years. But all that had faded into the distance as long days of sunlight and solitude stretched behind him. He had to admit there was an appeal to getting away from the world and living off his own strength and expertise, at least for a while. It was a pleasant vacation, and it was showing Arthur that there were things he missed out on in the rush of his daily life. He’d even begun to like the taste of goat’s milk.

Arthur had been feeling a bit like the flu he’d had when he’d arrived at Avalon was returning. His eyes hurt when he moved them, and he felt a little chilled, even out in the sun. He wondered if he asked Merlin to touch him, if it would ward the illness off. He decided he would ask him later that day.

In the distance Arthur could see Will pounding away at some poor tree he was going to call a piece of furniture when he got enough nails into it. Things between the two men were still strained, and they generally avoided one another.

“Surely there’s someone here that can make a better chair than Will,” Arthur said aloud.

Lance smiled. “Oh, I’m sure most of us could. But that’s what Will wants to do, so we let him do it.”

“What’s his story?” Arthur asked.

“I really don’t know much about him, other than he had a bad time of it at home--his father was killed in an accident and the mother took up with man after man. Some of them weren’t too kind to Will.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, pounding another nail into the roof. “Sounds rough.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed. “I think that’s why he enjoys hammering things.” Lance pounded in a few more nails and climbed down his ladder. “I’m going to wash up. You about through?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in in a few.” Arthur pulled another nail out of the pouch at his side and drove it into the roof, his thoughts on nothing more than the steady rhythm of the hammer. He worked a bit more slowly than Lance, not having as much experience at it.

“Isn’t it about time you got back to England?” a sudden voice shouted from below him. Arthur looked down to see Will standing with his hands on his hips. “I mean, I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from here, but it’s been over three weeks.”

“I don’t have a way to leave, in case you haven’t noticed,” Arthur told him, driving another nail in, perhaps a little harder than he needed to. But Lance’s words about Will’s difficulties still rang in his ears, and Arthur tried to rein in his anger.

“I’m sure you could find a way if you really wanted to. But I see the way you look at Merlin—I think he’s the reason you want to stay.” Will spit on the ground, and Arthur got the distinct impression he’d rather be spitting in Arthur’s face.

“Merlin’s a nice guy,” Arthur said neutrally.

“Too nice for the likes of you,” Will agreed.

“Okay, maybe. Why don’t you let him be the judge of that?” Arthur replied, driving in the last nail.

Will’s face reddened. “I don’t plan to let you hurt him, you hear me?”

Arthur sighed. Will was like a persistent gnat, flying in his face, always just out of reach. He really knew how to push Arthur’s buttons, too. “Perhaps it’s you who has the thing for Merlin,” he found himself saying. He put the hammer down and prepared to descend the ladder.

Will pointed a finger at him angrily. “You shut up! You don’t know anything! You and your money and your arrogance.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his patience pushed to the limit. He stared down at Will and said scathingly, “Oh, for God’s sake--why don’t you go back to making your freakishly ugly furniture and leave me alone?” He moved to step down a rung, and at that moment when Arthur’s foot dangled in mid-air, something jostled the ladder and suddenly Arthur was falling backward. He made a grab for the roof but only latched onto empty air, and then there was a brief moment of suspension before he was free-falling into a body-jarring _thunk_ on the ground, followed by immense pain and enveloping darkness.

Arthur came to with Will’s voice bellowing from somewhere above him, “Help! Somebody!” Then almost whimpering, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” and then yelling again, “Somebody help, please!” Hands touched Arthur’s face. “You stupid git, wake up! I’m sorry!”

Arthur almost felt badly for him and tried to open his eyes, but the pain in his head was too great. He could hear his heartbeat, and with every thump it felt like his brain was going to explode. And there was a nauseating pain spreading up his back.

“What happened?” Arthur heard several voices, all asking the same question.

“I didn’t mean to—he made me mad, and I hit the ladder—it wobbled, and he fell. The ladder fell on top of him, but I moved it off.”

“Will, how could you?” Gwen’s voice.

“I didn’t mean to, I tell you!” Will insisted. He sounded so distraught, Arthur believed him. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell him he was okay, but biting pain coursed through his body, and he flinched instead.

“I’m afraid to move him—what if his back is broken?”

“Oh, Lance!”

“Get Merlin! Where is he?”

The babbling melded into a buzz, filling Arthur’s ears for long moments. Time seemed to stretch, while Arthur felt nothing but horrific pain and the hot sun beating on his skin.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice, calm and soft. “Arthur, can you hear me?”

Arthur swallowed bile. “Yes.” The word came out funny, not like his voice at all.

“Where is the pain?” Merlin’s long-fingered hands ran over his body, searching for broken bones.

“M-my head. My back,” Arthur answered, fighting the urge to turn his head and vomit because he knew it would hurt.

Arthur felt Merlin’s cool hands on his head, pressing gently. The pain lessened to a more bearable pounding. Next, those hands carefully snaked beneath him, pushing in on the small of his back. Arthur cried out in pain, but then he felt the spreading warmth he’d experienced before at Merlin’s touch and a moment later the pain subsided to a dull throb. Arthur breathed raggedly. Merlin’s hands moved up to Arthur’s neck and cupped it. Arthur thought he could feel energy leaving them and entering into his body, electric and real.

“Can you turn your head now, Arthur?” Merlin asked. “Try, but be careful.”

Arthur obediently moved his head. He felt much better. The nausea had subsided. He moved to sit up.

“Easy, Arthur,” Merlin told him, pushing him back down.

“Did you heal him, Merlin?” Hunith asked. “Did you feel it?”

Merlin must have nodded, for Arthur next heard Hunith murmur, “Thank God.”

Someone slipped a thin board beneath Arthur’s body and then several pairs of arms lifted Arthur up and carried him to the main house. While he felt much better than he had minutes ago, Arthur was still in a lot of pain. Merlin didn’t leave his side. He held Arthur’s hand while the others scrambled to get him comfortable in bed, and Arthur could swear he felt an energy running between them from the contact.

Arthur opened his eyes for the first time after the accident to find that his vision was blurry. He told Merlin, whose face swam above him.

“It’s all right. Give it some time. Close your eyes and rest.” Merlin still held his hand, and he gave Arthur’s fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Arthur dreamt of lying in his childhood bed, burning with fever, and his father standing over him, demanding he stop being so weak and get up and go to school.

He whimpered, and writhed in the bed until cooling hands covered his head and the dream faded, replaced by blessed sleep.

“It’s fever,” he heard Hunith say.

“Why can’t I stop it?” Merlin’s voice. He sounded so wretched, Arthur wished he could comfort him.

“You mended his injuries…perhaps you’ve worn yourself out.”

Everything after that was a jumbled mess that Arthur couldn’t straighten out if he tried. He didn’t know how much time had passed, or who spoke to him. He remembered worried voices and movement. And  more pain.

He did know that after a time he didn’t feel Merlin close to him any longer, and he feverishly called out his name. However, Merlin never returned.

~~~OOO~~~

Arthur slowly became aware of his surroundings. White on white. It took him longer to realize that he was no longer in the commune, but in a hospital. And even longer than that to wonder how he got there.

Nurses were his daily companions, but when he asked them how he got there, or asked for Merlin, they just told him he was brought from a hospital in America. Which meant he was no longer in America. Which meant he was back in Britain.

This was verified when his father strode into his room one morning shortly after Arthur regained consciousness. Sophia trailed close behind.

“So you’re awake, then,” Uther said, his voice resonating throughout the room. Arthur, who had become used to quiet and calm, winced. He stared at his father, who looked even taller when looming over him as he was, and didn’t reply.

“I must say, Arthur, I’m eager to learn how you came to be out in the middle of nowhere. I heard you’d had some kind of fall, but when you arrived at hospital, you were delirious with fever. That was a week ago. I had you flown here as soon as you were stable. I don’t trust those American doctors, you know.”

Sophia leaned over to look at him. “You’re quite pale.”

Arthur looked into her soft face and opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t think what and closed it again. He was empty inside. It almost felt as if he had dreamed Avalon and Merlin.

“Arthur, Sophia spoke to you,” Uther reprimanded his son as though he were ten-years-old again.

“I…feel quite pale, Sophia,” Arthur replied. “Father, I am just not up for this conversation.”

Uther crossed his arms over his chest. “Arthur, do you know why you’re here?”

Arthur thought about it. “I fell. Off a roof, I think.”

“I heard something about that, but that isn’t why you’re in hospital. You’ve had a fever. For a solid week.”

Arthur made a face. Was that right?

“The doctors think you picked something up on that trip to India last month. Have you had any other symptoms?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve had a fever on and off. I’m a little tired, I guess. How long do I have to stay here?”

Uther sighed, and the brief flash of worry in his eyes alarmed Arthur. “They want to run more tests now that you’re lucid.”

~~~OOO~~~

Merlin had been staring off into space for half an hour, and any time his mother, or Gwen, or anyone else at Avalon tried to speak with him, he either gave them a monosyllabic reply or bit their head off. He missed Arthur. And he was worried about him.

After the fall, Merlin felt sure that he’d taken care of any breaks Arthur had had. He’d felt his healing magic leaving him and going into Arthur; Merlin never would’ve dared move Arthur from the spot where he’d fallen otherwise. But something more had been wrong with Arthur; he’d had a fever again, just like he’d had when they’d found him on the side of the road. And this time, Merlin had been unable to do anything about it. It had become necessary for them to get help, and the truck was in worse shape than ever, needing a part that none of them could afford at present. Percy and Lance had set out walking, prepared to travel days before getting to a phone. They’d managed out of sheer luck to hitch a ride and call an ambulance from the nearest town.

“Hey,” Will’s voice came from over Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin skipped another flat river stone over the creek and didn’t turn around.

“Are you okay?” Will asked, coming to sit beside him. He’d pretty much left Merlin alone since Arthur was taken away in an ambulance , and Merlin knew it was because Will felt guilty.

“Yeah,” he answered him. “I’m fine.”

Merlin felt rather than saw Will squirming beside him. He really ought to say something to put an end to his discomfort, but Merlin couldn’t bring himself to.

“You really liked Arthur, didn’t you?” Will finally asked.

Merlin nodded.

“Look, I’m sorry, Merlin. I know he and I didn’t get along, but I hope you believe me that I didn’t try to hurt him. I was angry and hit the ladder. I didn’t want him to fall.”

“I know that, Will,” Merlin glanced over at his friend’s anxious face. “I’m worried about him, that’s all. And it’s not because of the injuries he sustained in the fall. I think something else is wrong with him.”

Will scrunched up his face. “Besides being an utter tool?”

Merlin smiled a little. “Yeah. He’d had that fever…just like he had when we found him. It came back, even after I laid hands on him. I think he’s really sick.”

Will was quiet for a moment before saying softly, “Why don’t you go see him, then?”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open. “All the way in England? I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not? It isn’t like you don’t have the money.”

Merlin looked down at his hands. It was true; he had plenty of money, thanks to Tristan. “I can’t leave here,” he said.

“You mean you won’t. Merlin, some of us are here because we love the solitude and the land. Others don’t really have anywhere else to go. You’re here because you’re hiding.”

Merlin looked over at him. He didn’t bother denying it. “It hurt so much when Tristan died,” he whispered. “And Mum wanted to do this, so I agreed.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to _stay_ ,” Will pointed out. “There are plenty of people here to take care of your mum. Including me.” He stared at Merlin’s immobile face for a few moments before getting up. “At least think about it.”

Merlin watched him walk off. Could he really leave Avalon?

“Will’s right, Merlin.”

Merlin jumped when he heard his mother’s voice.

“You need to go see about Arthur. And if you want to stay with him, that’s what I want you to do.”

“But, Mum…”

“I’ll be fine. This is my dream, Merlin, not yours. Besides,” she sat down beside him. “I’ve been worried about you being here, essentially wasting your life. You’re young and highly intelligent. You have enough money to go to university and learn something.”

Merlin looked out at the river. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine, Merlin. Honestly. Everyone here is like family.”

Merlin thought about it. Seeing Arthur, going to university, being a part of the world again.

He hadn’t realized before how much he wanted it.

~~~OOO~~~

“This is highly irregular,” someone barked from outside the hot, muffled cocoon in which Arthur now existed. He tried to block it out, because he was tired, and people were always talking around him. He already knew he was sick. He had a high fever and no one knew why. They had suspicions, but they couldn’t prove any of them, and his father ranted and raved daily, threatening to ruin the hospital if they didn’t do something to help his son.

Arthur knew he was dying, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. It hurt too much.

“It may be irregular, but at this point, I’m willing to try anything.” Uther. Vaguely, Arthur wondered if his father had brought in more specialists. He hoped not. Arthur was tired of being poked and prodded. He just wanted to lie there and rest.

“Arthur,” Uther said very close to Arthur’s ear, and the ever-present fog parted just a little bit.

“Leave me alone,” Arthur tried to say.

His head felt heavy on the pillow, like lead. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. A void that Arthur could sink into opened a little more every day, and as he sank, the voices got farther and farther away. But he could still hear his father’s voice.

“Arthur, I’ve brought someone to see you. A friend.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched. He didn’t have any friends, didn’t Uther know that? He worked too much. Kept to himself.

“Son, listen to me. This person…he came to me, begging me to let him help you. I ordered him to leave, but he’s been persistent. I-I’ve done all I can for you now, son. We’ve got nothing to lose.”

He felt his father’s presence move away from him. Silence, and then a hand on his arm.

“Arthur.”

Arthur knew that voice. Didn’t he? His heart fluttered in his chest.

“Arthur, it’s Merlin.”

Merlin? _Merlin?_ Arthur hadn’t thought he’d ever see him again.

Arthur struggled to open his eyes, to move his head, to lift his arm. But he just couldn’t. It was as though a heavy blanket lay over him.

_Don’t go, Merlin, stay here with me!_

Merlin was there, and suddenly Arthur didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to, but he knew that he was going to, and the horrible thing about it was that he wasn’t even able to look at Merlin. To touch him. To say goodbye or tell him how very much Merlin meant to him.

He tried to move his mouth. “Merlin.”

“Arthur, I’m here. You’re father’s letting me try to help you. I’m going to put my hands on you like I did before when you were sick. All right?”

Arthur felt cool hands on his head. That alone felt wonderful, because Arthur was burning up. He was always burning up.

Gradually, coolness soaked into Arthur’s skin. The void closed a bit. Calm washed over him, replacing the agitation he’d felt when he’d been unable to open his eyes or answer Merlin.

“What are you doing to him?” Uther’s voice, anxious. Wary.

“I’m laying my hands on him and healing him.”

“Like those evangelists do on television?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Someone grasped Arthur’s hand. Arthur thought it was his father. Merlin’s hands were still on his head, pushing away the darkness, closing up the void.

Arthur’s sigh was soul-deep.

“Sleep, Arthur. Sleep if you want to. I’ll be here. I won’t leave you,” Merlin promised.

Arthur slept, awakening sporadically to find Merlin’s hands on him. Sometimes on his head, and sometimes on his chest. They were always on him, and he always felt just a little bit better than he had before.

“His fever’s broken,” he heard someone say once, and then his father’s fervent “Thank God,” before Arthur slipped into sleep again. Another time, he heard Uther arguing with someone to allow Merlin to stay all night.

When he was finally able to open his eyes enough to focus, Arthur saw Merlin sitting beside his hospital bed, both hands on Arthur’s arm and head on the mattress, sleeping. Arthur turned his head a little, testing how it felt.

“Arthur!” Arthur barely recognized his fatehr. Uther had on suit pants and one of his white button-down shirts, but the pants were heavily creased and the shirt so wrinkled it resembled a dish rag. His disheveled hair looked dirty, and his tired eyes had bags under them. “Son, how do you feel?”

Arthur tried to say something, but his throat was dry. He tried licking his lips, but there was no moisture. Uther went to the table and returned with a damp cloth, which he used to wet Arthur’s lips. Arthur couldn’t stop staring at the odd image of his father. He’d never seen him so bedraggled before, even after long board meetings.

Arthur blinked, slowly rolling his eyes to peer around the room. A tube ran out of his arm, snaking up to a bag hanging beside his bed, a monitor beeping steadily beside it. An empty bed sat beside his, with a small table between them.

“You really had me scared, son. You’ve been very, very ill.” Uther’s voice was soft, reverent. He got a cup and poured water into it, adding a straw. Lifting Arthur’s head off the pillow, Uther helped him to drink.

“M-M-Merlin,” Arthur was finally able to say. He turned to look at the dark head by his arm.

“He’s been here day and night for three days. Every single day I had to argue someone down to allow him to stay past visiting hours. He’s exhausted,” Uther told him. “It was a miracle, Arthur. He came insisting he could help you, said he was a friend of yours from the states, and I didn’t believe him, but when I finally got so desperate, I let him in and he’s been with you ever since. Once he started touching you, I could tell immediately that you were more comfortable. Then finally, your fever broke! The doctor says you’re on the mend.”

Arthur stared down at Merlin, watching him sleep, Merlin’s lips parted and dark lashes fanned over his high cheeks bones. Arthur thought he’d never seen a more beautiful face.

~~~OOO~~~

When Merlin finally dragged himself up out of the deep sleep he’d fallen into, every muscle in his back and neck hurt. He realized, though, that something was off. He’d fallen asleep bent over Arthur, sometime just after Arthur’s fever had finally broken, but now Merlin lay on a hospital bed. He jerked up, his back protesting the quick movement, and looked around the room, the empty bed beside him sending alarm bells ringing throughout his body.

“Arthur!” he called out, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “ARTHUR!” he shouted.

The bathroom door opened and a burly male nurse dressed in white guided, a slower, slightly stooped Arthur to his bed.

“Mr. Emrys!” The nurse scolded severely. “This is a hospital! Please don’t shout.”

Merlin ignored him, his eyes focused on Arthur, who looked much better than Merlin had last seen him, so still and unmoving in his hospital bed.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed in relief. “You’re okay.”

“Thanks to you,” Arthur smiled tiredly. The nurse helped him into his bed, and Arthur told him he didn’t need anything else. When the nurse had left, closing the door behind him, Arthur patted the mattress beside him. Merlin obediently stood and walked over to him, taking a seat where Arthur’s hand had been.

“I thought I’d been dreaming when I heard your voice before,” Arthur said, drinking in the sight of Merlin. “Then I woke up and you were there.” He touched Merlin’s arm shyly. “Tell me how I got here.”

“I was so worried about you,” Merlin explained. “After you fell, I was able to heal your bones, but you got a fever again. Percy and Lance walked to the nearest town to get help, and soon after they came for you, your father had you flown here. I got here a few days ago and begged your father to let me try to help.”

“And you did.”

Merlin nodded. “I don’t know why, but my healing magic responds to you. It’s as if…as if once I mastered it as a child, it went into hibernation until you needed me. It’s never worked on anyone else. Given time, I think I could’ve healed you back at Avalon. Of course, I still don’t know if you’re completely healed.”

Arthur drew his brows together. “But why would it only work on me?”

Merlin took his head. “I don’t know. I tried so hard to heal Tristan, but I couldn’t even relieve his symptoms. I really thought whatever I’d had as a child had gone.” He smiled, patting Arthur’s hand. “We can talk about all this later. You need to rest so you can get out of here.”

“You’re not—going home yet, are you?” Arthur asked tentatively, and Merlin could see the worry along with exhaustion in the sick man’s eyes.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Merlin told him. “In fact, your father told me earlier that I could stay at your flat. I didn’t want to leave you, but now I guess I can.”

“Yes.” Arthur summoned his loftiest expression. “Please go get some rest. You look like hell, Merlin.”

“Well, thanks very much,” Merlin pretended to be affronted. “You should see yourself—you’ve grown a bit of a beard.”

Arthur reached up and felt his face. “So I have. I’ll have to get someone to shave it.”

“Would you like me to do it?”

“I’m sure one of the nurses will. You need to sleep.”

“Your father’s been beside himself with worry. He even ordered his wife off the premises because she distracted him with inane chatter. His words.”

Arthur looked surprised. “He did?”

Merlin nodded. “He loves you, Arthur. Very much. And there’s a card from your sister over there with the huge plant. And my mum got Leon to hitch a ride to town to call and ask about you. He said everyone’s worried, even Will.”

“He didn’t mean to do it,” Arthur told him, settling deeper into his pillows.

“I know. The doctors think you picked up something in India that’s given you the reoccurring fever.” Merlin shuddered. “I could feel your decline when I touched you.”

“I felt you healing me,” Arthur told him. “As soon as you touched me, I felt your energy. Whatever had a hold of me slowly began to let go.”

Merlin smiled brightly. “I’m so relieved. So fucking relieved you’re all right. We have some things to talk about, but first I want you to get better.” He stood up and tucked the covers around Arthur. “I’m going to your flat, and I’m going to sleep for a day or two. Then I’ll be back.”

Arthur nodded. “Okay.”

~~~OOO~~~

The hospital released Arthur a week later, and Merlin cooked him dinner in his flat to celebrate. As they sat eating, Arthur feeling nervous and uncomfortable in his own skin, finally got up the nerve to bring up the subject of Merlin’s plans. He’d seen Merlin several times over the past week, but there was always a doctor, nurse, or Uther in the room with them. Arthur had been dying to have a serious conversation with Merlin, and he was determined it was going to happen now that they were finally alone together without any distractions.

“Has Hunith been asking when you’re coming home?” Arthur asked tentatively.

“No,” Merlin said, taking a bite of chicken and rice.

“No? I thought she’d be eager for you to go.”

“She’s the one who told me to come here, so she’s hardly trying to get me to leave,” Merlin told him. “Eat your salad, Arthur. You need to build up your strength.”

“Yes, Mom,” Arthur replied, spearing some lettuce. “I don’t understand…” he chewed for a moment. “You’re mother told you to fly here and check on me?”

“She knew I wanted to come, and she encouraged me,” Merlin replied. “She also told me to stay. To enroll at uni here.”

“What?” Arthur dropped his fork, and it clattered onto the plate.

“I’m going to stay in London and go to university. Now I just have to choose which one.”

Arthur could feel the smile tugging at his mouth, and he was helpless to control it or the wave of happiness that washed over him. “You’re staying here!”

Merlin nodded. “You’re stuck with me, mate. You’re going to have to make time in that busy schedule of yours to hang out with me.” He pointed to Arthur’s food, silently telling him to eat.

Arthur took another bite, still staring at Merlin. He already knew how attracted he was to him. He wondered if his feelings could possibly be reciprocated. Well, of course Merlin cared…that was obvious from all he’d done for him. But was it a friend kind of caring, or could it be more?

“Do you mind if I stay with you until I’m enrolled?” Merlin pointed to Arthur’s food again, and Arthur obediently put some chicken in his mouth and chewed.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Arthur told him once he’d swallowed. “I have plenty of room.”

“It won’t be for long, I don’t think. I’ll be able to sign up soon, and I’ll get my own place.”

Arthur didn’t want to talk about that—didn’t want to have the pleasurable thought of Merlin living with him dampened before Arthur could even experience it. He quickly finished his meal so Merlin would stop telling him to eat it, and pushed away from the table.

“You should probably call it an early night,” Merlin told him, rising from his seat and gathering their dishes. “You’re still not completely yourself.”

“Merlin, why did your mum encourage you to go to uni here?”

Merlin stopped and turned around, looking at Arthur with a strange expression on his face. “Do you not want me here, Arthur?”

Arthur jumped up so fast, he knocked over his chair. He made a b-line for Merlin, whose surprised face was almost comical, taking the plates away from him and setting them on the counter.

“Of _course_ I want you here!” Arthur told him, pulling Merlin into a hug. “You don’t know how much. I just wondered why your mother suddenly wants you to leave Avalon and live an ocean away from her, that’s all. It seems…sudden.”

Merlin clung to Arthur a moment before letting go and stepping back to look at him. “She felt I was wasting my time there. That I should go to university and live my life. I’ve kind of been hiding out since Tristan’s death, I guess. I was ready to leave Avalon.”

Arthur considered his words. Merlin really did need to get back out in the world, and how lucky was Arthur that he wanted to do it in London?

“Well, I think that’s terrific,” he told Merlin. “I’m one hundred percent behind you.”

Merlin grinned. “Scoot off to bed, now. Go on.” He flicked his hands in the direction of the bedrooms. Arthur rolled his eyes and obeyed.

Sometime during the night, Arthur awoke to the feeling of someone staring at him. He opened his eyes, blinking into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Merlin?” he asked softly. A movement by the door caused Arthur to shift up on his elbows. “Are you okay?”

Merlin came forward, and Arthur scooted back in his bed, giving him room to climb in.

“I think…I just feel odd, being away from home and all. I know it’s silly,” Merlin said, settling down beside Arthur. “And I missed sleeping with you. Stupid, huh?”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Arthur replied quietly, relishing the feeling of having Merlin beside him again. “I’ve missed it, too.”

“Are you sure you’re okay having me here? I remember you saying that you liked your life with nobody in it.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? But that was before he found out what it was like having Merlin in his life.

“I want you here, and I don’t want to hear any more about it,” Arthur said sternly. Merlin sighed and curled up in the bed. Soon they both fell asleep.

~~~OOO~~~

“Is this Freya person your girlfriend?” Arthur asked, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

“No, no. Just a study mate,” Merlin replied while shoving his books into his book bag. He’d lived with Arthur a month, started uni, and now it appeared he was making friends. Not that Arthur was surprised—everyone who met Merlin tended to love him.

“But you’re going out to eat with her,” Arthur pointed out. He’d just arrived home from work, eager to spend some time with Merlin, only to find him preparing to go out.

“Yes, Arthur. We are humans, and we are fueled by food. We’re going to eat, then to her place to study.”

“So…you’ll probably be spending the night with her,” Arthur said in a way he hoped sounded casual.

Merlin straightened and looked at him. “I doubt that.”

“It would be okay if you did,” Arthur hurried to say. “I mean, you haven’t been dating anyone…”

“Neither have you,” Merlin pointed out.

“Me? Well, I…uh,” Arthur spluttered.

Merlin put his hands on his hips. “Perhaps I should fix _you_ up with Freya.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin, I don’t even know the girl,” Arthur scoffed, taking off his suit jacket. The doorbell rang, and Arthur went to get it. A small, dark-haired girl with big eyes stood on the other side.

“Hi, I’m Freya. I’m here for Merlin?” She looked uncertainly behind him.

Damn, she was pretty. Arthur made a little motion with his finger, and Freya stepped into the flat.

“Almost ready, Frey,” Merlin called to her from the living room. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem.” Freya watched Merlin wrestle with his books.

“This is Arthur,” Merlin said as an afterthought.

“Nice to meet you,” Freya smiled. “Merlin’s told me all about you.”

“Same,” Arthur replied. “I mean, about it being nice to meet you. Merlin hasn’t mentioned you at all.”

Merlin sent Arthur an incredulous look, and Arthur shrugged.

“Well, you haven’t.”

“Sorry, Freya,” Merlin said, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder. “He lacks social skills.” He gave Arthur a stern glance in parting, and they left.

 _Well, this is just great,_ Arthur thought when he was alone. He kicked the sofa before throwing himself onto it. _It’s only a matter of time before Merlin finds someone._

Arthur had convinced Merlin that he should stay permanently; fudging a bit by telling him he’d been planning on getting a flat mate anyway. He found living with Merlin both wonderful and agonizing. He loved being with him, but the close proximity only made Arthur want more from Merlin. Merlin had stopped sleeping in Arthur’s bed after the first couple of nights, stating that he felt silly and joking that it would be a big crimp in Arthur’s love life to bring someone home to find Merlin already in his bed. This had only served to make Arthur miss Merlin to the point where he had trouble sleeping.

Arthur should have said something then, should have told Merlin he didn’t want anyone else, but he couldn’t. Not without knowing how Merlin felt about him.

Arthur had gradually started back to work, finding that his father was much more patient and friendly with him since his illness. When Arthur went to Sunday dinner at Uther’s house and Sophia pouted about not getting her Amish pictures, Uther surprised both of them by snapping at her to shut it. Arthur found it disconcerting having his father on his side, but he had to acknowledge that it gave him a warm feeling and patched over a hole in his heart that had gaped open ever since he was old enough to be bothered that his father wasn’t always there for him.

Arthur had gotten stronger and felt much better since being in hospital, but occasionally a fever would spark up, quickly running him into the ground. On those occasions, Arthur would take to his bed for a couple of days (on both Merlin’s and Uther’s insistence), and Merlin would put his hands on Arthur, giving over his healing magic. It being the only time that Merlin really touched Arthur for prolonged periods, Arthur reveled in those occasions—the longed-for intimacy with Merlin more than making up for the discomfort and inconvenience of being sick.

Merlin talked to his mother almost nightly on the phone, frequently cooking while he did so, keeping Arthur’s flat smelling of good things to eat. Every so often Arthur would find something new that Merlin had added to the living room, such as the colorful vase a street vendor sold him, a portly Buddha he bought on sale, and a Mexican throw a professor bought him as a gift after Merlin had admired hers. The flat had never felt so much like a home before, and Arthur found himself growing more and more attached to Merlin’s presence in it.

After the incident with Freya, when Arthur thought he couldn’t possibly be more jealous, he found that he indeed _could_ when Merlin began bringing home a bloke called Mordred to study with him.

Arthur despised Mordred’s boyish charm and endless energetic vitality. Mordred was stupidly handsome, too, with brown, wavy hair and an annoyingly attractive grin, along with eyes that belonged on a pound puppy. Mordred’s attempts at drawing Arthur into friendly conversation annoyed Arthur to no end, and every time Mordred leaned over Merlin at the dining room table, trying to read something off Merlin’s notes, Arthur just wanted to punch him. Repeatedly.

Arthur’s verbal communication with Mordred consisted of belligerent grunts, yet Mordred continued to be friendly to him, as though Arthur wasn’t sending annoyed glances his way or sneering at him every chance he got, let alone refusing to encourage him by using real words.

And Merlin and Mordred shared all their classes, so Mordred showed up at the flat several times a week.

Arthur had felt a bit peckish when he came home to the eleventh or twelfth study session between the two. Their laughter and jovial banter seeped into the kitchen as Arthur fixed some ice water, unabashedly eaves dropping. He was thirsty and a little nauseous, and had cut his work day off by an hour when Uther had ordered him home to let Merlin take care of him. It was a bit disconcerting the way Uther had taken to Merlin, but Arthur wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The way Arthur felt at the moment, as he listened to Merlin explaining something about alleles to a captivated Mordred, wasn’t quite the same as the “India fever,” as he and Merlin had taken to calling it, but more like the flu, which had been running rampant at the company for weeks. He knew Merlin could make him feel better, but Arthur wasn’t going to be all pathetic and ask him to in front of Mordred.

“Just great,” Arthur muttered, pressing his hot forehead to the cold steel of the freezer door. Mordred, perpetually fresh-faced and interesting, bantered easily with Merlin in the next room while Arthur stood glued to an appliance feeling like something that had been fished out of the sewer system.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but it almost felt like he slept for a few minutes. When Merlin spoke from behind him, Arthur jumped, spilling the water still clutched in his hand all over his pants and the floor.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Merlin said, grabbing a kitchen towel. “Didn’t mean to startle you. What were you doing? I didn’t even hear you come in.”

Arthur thought that was probably because Merlin had been so busy flirting with stupid Mordred, but he didn’t say that. “Oh, just thinking, I guess. Long day, you know.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Merlin asked, concern lacing his words. “Your eyes are awfully bright.”

“My tail is bushy, too,” Arthur attempted to joke, but Merlin either didn’t get it or didn’t find it funny. He frowned, looking Arthur over carefully. “Honestly, I’m fine,” Arthur said. “But I think I’ll go to bed early.”

He slipped past Merlin, who looked like he would follow him, except that Mordred popped out of the dining room and distracted Merlin with something in a book.

Arthur thankfully escaped to the bathroom, sinking gratefully into a tub of hot water, his limbs achy and sore. By the time Merlin pounded on the door, demanding to know if he’d drowned, Arthur resembled a wrinkled prune.

“No, Merlin, I’m just soaking,” Arthur answered from the tub, where the water had grown tepid, and he had begun having trouble keeping his eyes open. He must’ve sounded unusually tired, or maybe he fell asleep again, because the next thing Arthur knew, Merlin was in the bathroom with him.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Merlin asked, leaning down and peering into Arthur’s face with big blue eyes. Arthur tried to swat him away.

“I’m naked in here, Merlin; have you no respect for personal boundaries?” Arthur asked, irritated, and a little shocked at how weak he sounded—not at all the way he’d meant it to come out. He groaned a little because he felt like crap.

Merlin pulled the plug and helped Arthur to sit up. “Come on, you can’t stay in here and catch pneumonia.” Merlin grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it about Arthur’s shoulders as he helped him to stand.

Arthur didn’t know when he’d gotten so wobbly, but he found it difficult to get from the bathroom to the bedroom. He didn’t think he could have made it at all if Merlin hadn’t been holding him up.

“It’s okay, go back to your cuddle session,” Arthur groused, and Merlin had the audacity to laugh.

“You’re such an arse when you’re sick,” he said.

“Only when I’m sick?” Arthur attempted to look Merlin in the eyes but had a bit of trouble holding his head up.

“Okay, most of the time.” Merlin sat Arthur on the edge of the bed, toweling him off gently.

Arthur gave his best half-sneer, pushing at Merlin’s hands. “I can do it,” he told him, then immediately fell limply backward onto the duvet.

“Just roll under the covers, if you can,” Merlin instructed.

“Of course I can,” Arthur harrumphed, but had a bit of trouble doing it, what with the duvet being under him and his body being all heavy and uncooperative.

“Everything all right?” Mordred asked from the doorway.

“Arthur’s sick,” Merlin replied. “I’m just getting him into bed.”

“Can I help?” Mordred asked hopefully, and Arthur flinched. Mordred stepped farther into the room. “Shall I get some pyjamas on him?”

Arthur thought he’d rather die than suffer Mordred’s well-meaning attempts to get Arthur’s pyjamas on. He groaned, and Merlin told Mordred to wait for him in the living room.

“Just the flu,” Arthur said at Merlin’s worried frown.

“Are you sure?”

“I can tell. It’s not-- like the other.” Arthur felt fairly sure that the India fever was well and gone.

“Go on back to your…Mordred,” Arthur told Merlin, pulling the duvet up to his chin and shivering. He wasn’t trying to look pathetic, honestly.

“You do know you’re pouting?” Merlin asked, a smile playing about his lips as he sat down next to Arthur. Arthur pulled the cover up over his head and grunted. He felt the bed jostle as Merlin got to his feet, and then all was quiet. Arthur imagined Merlin going back into the living room and suggesting a break. Perhaps taking a seat on the sofa and giving Mordred a come-hither look that would bring the boy over to snog with him while Arthur died a slow death in the bedroom. Unloved and uncared for.

He heard a door close, and a moment later Merlin pulled the blanket off Arthur’s face. “You’re going to suffocate if you aren’t careful.”

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked foggily. “Thought you were snogging _Mordred_ on my sofa.”

“Arthur, I don’t snog with Mordred. Whatever gave you that idea?” Merlin brushed the damp hair out of Arthur’s eyes. Arthur shuddered, more from Merlin’s touch than from the fever chills, but, unaware as he was of Arthur’s unrequited feelings, Merlin took it as the latter and crawled under the duvet, pulling Arthur closer to him in order to keep him warm.

Sick but not stupid, Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin and took advantage of it, burying his nose into Merlin’s neck.

“Tickles!” Merlin laughed, running his hands over Arthur’s bare back. “Your nose is bloody cold!” He settled around him. “I sent Mordred home.”

With Merlin’s hands firmly to his back, Arthur could already feel his fever going down. “Your clothes are scratchy,” he told Merlin. “Take them off.”

Merlin was silent for several beats. “Huh?”

Arthur froze. _Had he really just told Merlin to take his clothes off?_

He pulled away enough to look at Merlin. “Sorry, I guess that was really inappropriate.”

Merlin bunched the pillow up behind his head and regarded Arthur.

“Get some rest,” he told him, and Arthur blinked a few times at Merlin’s faintly amused face before his eyes slowly drifted shut.

The following day Arthur trailed into the kitchen, the duvet wrapped about him like a crimson robe.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Merlin said cheerily from the stove where he was stirring something in a pot. Arthur observed him with only one eye open.

“Tell me you have some tea,” he said out of one side of his mouth as he squinted in the bright light of the kitchen. He sat down heavily at the table.

“Coming right up.”

“How can you be so chirpy this early in the morning?” Arthur asked, laying his head on his arm.

“Chirpy? You mean chipper?”

“No chirpy. Like a little bird, flitting all over the kitchen.” Arthur wiggled his fingers in the air.

Merlin laughed. “I haven’t been sick. Plus, it’s eleven o’clock, hardly early,” Merlin told him.

“It is?” Arthur yawned.

Merlin put a cup of tea in front of Arthur. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked. “You puked three times last night.”

Arthur made a face. “Sorry. My stomach is better, yeah.” As if to confirm it, his stomach growled loudly.

Merlin smiled and went to fill a bowl. “Oatmeal with nuts and fruit,” he told Arthur, setting it down. “Eat up.”

Arthur sniffed at it, took the spoon, and tried a bite.

“Good?” Merlin asked, and Arthur nodded, taking another bite.

“Arthur,” Merlin ventured, scratching at the table with his finger nail. “You made a couple of comments last night…like you thought Mordred and I are a couple. We aren’t.”

Arthur flushed, embarrassed. “Oh,” was all he could come up with to say.

“Why did you think that?”

Arthur shrugged. “I just…I don’t know. You see a lot of him.”

“I see a lot of _you_ , but we aren’t a couple.”

 _Don’t remind me,_ Arthur thought, burying his face in his mug of tea.

“How long has it been since you dated somebody?” Merlin asked with curiosity.

Arthur considered. “Before I made the trip to the states, I’d just broken up with a guy. We’d been together a couple of months. He’d even moved into my flat. It was an uncomfortable breakup.”

Merlin nodded. “I just wondered, because you don’t talk about it. You don’t do much of anything except work.”

“I’ve always worked long hours,” Arthur said, drinking more tea. “What about you?”

“Tristan and I were together two years, one of which he was sick. Just before Mum and I went to Avalon, I tried dating another guy. All I could think about was Tristan. I’ve been alone for over a year now.”

Arthur watched him. “Do you get lonely?”

Merlin shrugged. “I did. I haven’t been lonely lately, though.” He gave Arthur a small smile, and Arthur smiled back.

~~~OOO~~~

The days grew shorter and colder, and before Merlin knew what was happening, final exams were upon him. He spent so much time studying late into the night, he often slept in the living room after having fallen asleep with his books. Several times he’d awakened to find that Arthur had covered him with a blanket and stuffed a pillow under his head. He always fell back to sleep with a smile on his face after that.

Merlin was extremely relieved that the ‘India fever’ Arthur had had seemed to have vanished for good. Why Merlin had been able to cure him of it remained a mystery, as had every other thing Merlin had cured Arthur of. He was still unable to do the same for himself or anyone else. A part of him really felt that it had just been something that had been destined to happen.

Arthur didn’t seem to have much of a social life. Merlin had yet to meet any of Arthur’s friends, and Arthur never went on the pull.  Of course, neither did Merlin, but he found that he wasn’t interested in dating. Before he’d met Arthur, Merlin had just finally been getting over the grieving process. Arthur filled his mind and his heart enough that Merlin didn’t feel the need for something more. Lately, though, he’d been wondering what it would be like to kiss him. And more than that, of course, but kissing seemed a big enough challenge. Merlin didn’t want to ruin the friendship he had with Arthur, and he reasoned that if Arthur had wanted to kiss Merlin, wouldn’t he have done it by now?

“That’s really stupid,” Freya told him over lunch on the last day of finals. “You’ve obviously wanted to kiss _him_ , but you haven’t.”

“I suppose,” Merlin agreed. “I guess the thing is that if I initiate something, and it doesn’t work between us, everything is ruined, and I don’t think I could stand that.”

“And if you do nothing, you’ll never know.” Freya waved a chip at him. “You’ll just have to be careful, is all. Take it in slow steps so that you can back off if you need to. Pay attention to the signs.” She gave Merlin a stern look. “Do it, Merlin. You don’t need to reveal your love in one, huge, grand gesture. Test the waters a bit. I don’t think you’ll regret it. When I came to your flat that time, Arthur stood over you like a guard dog. I think he really has feelings for you, but he’s just too---I don’t know, socially awkward?—to do anything about it.”

Merlin thought about it all day.

That evening, in order to celebrate the end of his exams, Merlin suggested to Arthur that they go out to dinner. It was a Friday night, and Arthur looked pretty tired, but he agreed. Merlin thought that was a good sign.

When Arthur joined him in the foyer, showered and dressed in dark slacks and a red sweater, Merlin’s heart beat faster at the sight. He was just so bloody gorgeous. Merlin had always thought so; on the day he’d pulled Arthur out of the ditch, it seemed as though he’d found a prince in a gutter.

“What are you staring at?” Arthur asked. “Did I put something on inside out?” he looked down at his sleeves.

“No, no. You just look very nice, that’s all,” Merlin told him, opening the front door.

“And that’s unusual? Honestly, Merlin, you really know how to make a guy feel good.” Arthur huffed out a breath, following Merlin into the hall and locking the door behind them. “You look quite nice, too,” he said as an afterthought. “I like you in blue. I mean, it’s a good color on you.” Arthur blushed.

Merlin grinned secretly to himself as they took the lift down.

_Another good sign._

The bustle of Christmas shoppers and general festive quality to the evening was contagious, and Merlin found himself laughing with Arthur more than he ever had before. It was as though they were both giddy with Christmas. Arthur said Merlin was punch drunk due to being finished with exams, and Merlin knew that was partly true, too. But he was also intoxicated on Arthur as he watched the blond smiling at children, dropping money in Salvation Army buckets, and throwing his head back when he laughed at something.

When they found that the restaurant Merlin had wanted to go to was extremely crowded that evening, Merlin grabbed Arthur by the hand and tugged him toward a little bistro farther down the street. As they walked, Merlin purposely didn’t let go of Arthur’s hand, and Arthur didn’t pull away.

Merlin considered it yet another sign that Arthur was receptive to perhaps being more than friends. Freya had been right; just taking things slowly and paying attention made things so much easier.

Thankfully, the bistro was not full, and they were able to order quickly and sit down. “I’ve got to send something to Japan for Morgana and her family,” Arthur told Merlin. “I have no idea what.”

“Maybe you could just order something online?” Merlin suggested. “Go to one of those websites that specializes in something. Like maybe the one that’s all pyjamas. You could order each of them a matching pair.”

“I can’t decide if that’s brilliant or the dorkiest idea I’ve ever heard,” Arthur replied, frowning.

“I’d go with brilliant and order the pyjamas,” Merlin told him.

Arthur sighed. “Okay, but what about Father and Sophia? They’re much more difficult. I’m _not_ ordering them pyjamas.”

Merlin thought about it. “I’ve got an idea, but I’ll wait until we eat, then show you the store.”

Arthur agreed, and when their names were called, they got their food and dug in.

Merlin had already ordered his mother some special seeds to be delivered to Avalon, along with a few other things he thought his friends there could use. That pretty much wrapped up his shopping list, so it was with gusto that he threw himself into helping Arthur.

When they left the bistro, wrapping themselves up in coats, scarves, and gloves, it was to find that it was snowing.

“Oh, now I’m really in the Christmas mood!” Merlin grinned. Arthur reached over and ruffled his hair, leaving it in such disarray Merlin had to look into a nearby shop window and fix it.

“You’re such a big kid,” Arthur told him rather fondly. “Now lead the way to this special store you mentioned.”

Merlin hailed a taxi, and when they got out, he hustled Arthur into a shop. “Don’t forget, Uther and Sophia are newlyweds.”

“What is this, Merlin?” Arthur looked around. The shop was called _Intimate Whispers_. “Oh, my God!” Arthur hissed into Merlin’s ear. “This is a _sex shop_!”

“There’re all kinds of things here, Arthur, calm down. I’m not suggesting you get your father and step- mother a dildo.”

“Well I should hope not!” Arthur scoffed, but began browsing with curiosity. A moment later, Arthur was back to hissing in Merlin’s ear. “There are old people in this shop!”

“Old people have sex, too,” Merlin reminded Arthur in a low voice. “Remember whom we’re shopping for.”

“Oh, my God,” Arthur groaned. He eyed a wall full of anal plugs before looking at Merlin with a horrified expression. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

“I think it has something to do with the feeling of fullness? But your father has a stick up his ass already without you buying him one of those,” Merlin quipped. “Come this way. This is more what I had in mind.”

They walked over to a shelf full of various massage oils and silky robes. Arthur’s face turned red.

“You can’t honestly expect me to give my father something like this!”

“Why not? Don’t you think they’d use them?”

“I don’t want to think about it!” Arthur replied, scandalized. “And I don’t want him thinking that I think about it!”

Merlin sighed.

“Okay, okay. Let’s try another shop, then.”

Arthur reached out and stopped Merlin with a hand on his arm. “How did you know about this place? Do you shop here?”

It was Merlin’s turn to get red in the face. “Mordred shops here. I’ve been here with him.”

“Oh.” Arthur looked like he didn’t know what to say to that. He bit his lip, then ventured, “What did he buy?”

Merlin looked around before pointing to a wall that displayed a variety of whips, paddles, nipple clamps, and restraints.

“Holy shit,” Arthur breathed.

“I know,” Merlin replied. “You wouldn’t think him the type, would you? He even got one of those hooded masks.”

Arthur shuddered and led the way out of the store.

“Now you see why I wasn’t interested in him,” Merlin said when they got outside.

Arthur’s mouth pulled down. “So you might have dated him if he wasn’t kinky?”

Merlin shrugged, considering it yet another good sign that Arthur definitely appeared jealous.

“There’s a candle shop,” Merlin pointed down the street. “Perhaps a few scented candles? That’s both romantic and just… nice.”

Arthur sighed, a little disgruntled by Merlin’s non-reply. “Okay, what the hell.” They trudged through the falling snow and entered the small store, where Arthur chose a variety of candles. “I’ll add a couple of bottles of wine to this,” he told Merlin when they left with his purchases.

“You should have gotten the massage oil. You could’ve made up a basket,” Merlin said.

“You’re such a girl, Merlin.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “And you’re a Neanderthal.”

Arthur looked at him, shocked. They’d stopped under a street lamp, snow swirling all around them. “I beg your pardon! I’ll have you know I’m a very modern-thinking man.”

“You are not,” Merlin disagreed. “You are definitely stuck way back there…if not the caveman days, then at least the medieval period.”

Arthur frowned, putting a gloved hand to his chest. “You wound me, Merlin.”

Merlin’s eye caught something above Arthur’s head, and he looked up. He couldn’t believe it.

“What? What are you looking at?” Arthur raised his face, blinking into the falling snow.

“We’re standing under the mistletoe,” Merlin replied.

“We are not! Why would there be mistletoe out here?” Arthur scoffed, setting his shopping bag down.

A layer of snow lay in Arthur’s hair and all over his shoulders. It was even in his eyelashes. Love, pure and strong filled Merlin, and he took a step forward until his chest touched Arthur’s. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell began playing a Christmas carol, and Merlin shivered.

“Someone must have stuck a sprig on the lamp post,” Merlin replied. “Now we have to kiss. It’s a law.”

Arthur spluttered, his face turning pink. “It isn’t a _law,_ Merlin, that’s ridiculous.”

Merlin nodded his head, raising his gloved hands to grip the lapels of Arthur’s woolen coat. “Yes, it is. A Christmas law. When standing under a sprig of mistletoe, you must kiss. You cannot break a Christmas law, Arthur. Penalties and all that.”

Arthur’s expression softened. “I guess...that makes sense.” He leaned into Merlin a little, sending Merlin’s pulse racing.

Together, they angled their heads and pressed their lips together. Arthur’s were cold at first, then warmer; soft; and sweeter than honey. Merlin sucked gently on the lower.

“Merlin…” Arthur sighed into his mouth, his breath hot and inviting, hands loose on Merlin’s hips.

Merlin kissed him a little harder, and Arthur tugged him closer. The snow fall increased, swirling about them, creating their own private curtain while their mouths languidly moved over one another, tongues shyly touching at the tips.

“How long of a kiss does standing under the mistletoe call for?” Arthur asked into Merlin’s mouth, his voice low, quiet, and tantalizingly sexy.

“Depends on the size of the mistletoe,” Merlin answered, smiling against Arthur’s lips. “This piece is _huge._ ”

“Well, then…” Arthur opened his mouth, deepening the kiss with a tilt of his head, his arms coming around Merlin to hold him against him, their hearts pounding together beneath their clothes. Merlin responded enthusiastically, hands moving up to hold the back of Arthur’s head so he couldn’t possibly move away, not that he seemed at all inclined to.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin thought that he was going to have to send Freya a very special Christmas gift.

_The end._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
